Empty Chairs At An Empty Table
by lil-miss-chocolate
Summary: AU. It's the 1920's. Kurt Hummel is hosting one of his famous soirees, but when one of the guests goes missing, what can they do but get detective Puckerman to investigate? Murder mystery. Contains slash.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Empty Chairs At An Empty Table**

**Author:** lil-miss-chocolate

**Rating:** Starts PG, goes up to NC17

**Characters:** Kurt, Puck, Mercedes, Rachel, Quinn, Tina, Artie, Will, Emma, Sue, Figgins (briefly), Burt (referenced but no appearance), Jesse (referenced but no appearance).

**Pairings:** Kurt/Puck is the main one, the rest are a little intricate.

**Genre:** Crime/Romance

**Warnings:** Various character deaths, some angsty stuff, some smut, and some sickeningly fluffy stuff.

**Spoilers:** None

**Summary:** An AU 1920's murder mystery featuring the Glee club (and assorted friends and relatives).

**Disclaimer:** I don't make the toys, I just play with them. And the idea of a 1920's murder mystery belongs to an anon on the Glee Kink Meme.

**Word Count: ~ **18,000 in total. Chapters vary. First chapter: ~1,700

**Beta: **Slash_Pl0x. He saved this story from my incapable hands and made it fab, so much love to him.

Author Notes:

**Please forgive the absence of Brittany, Santana, Mike and Matt. It's way harder to keep track of characters when you have to give 15 separate people convincing motives and alibis.**

**This is set in England, partially because Prohibition makes alcoholic drinks tricky, partially because there weren't any race laws to contend with, and partially because I know far more about early 20th century Britain in general than I do America.**

**Also, I know that some people nowadays find the word Oriental offensive, but this is the 20's, it was the politest word that was used. "Asian" usually means someone of Indian colouring in England, anyway, so using it to describe someone from eastern Asia just causes confusion; Oriental is used to describe those from eastern Asia (and literally means 'from the East').**

**This fic was started before the episode of the back nine where Emma found some balls, which is why she seems a bit OoC. She's really just more 'pre-character development'.**

**I know that Puck is a bit OoC at times, that's mainly because the prompt specified that he had to be the detective, and no-one in their right minds would give an IC Puck a job as a PI.**

**In the UK, the ground floor is the one level with the ground, and the first floor is the next one up - ie the first floor above the ground. Just explaining because I believe you call the ground floor the first floor in America, which can lead to confusion.**

**You have no idea how much fun it is to write Kurt with an English accent. Yes, these are the longest author notes in the history of fic. Wait till you see the closing ones after chapter 13!**

* * *

Our story begins on a small island on the south coast of Great Britain. The island sits in an inland bay, surrounded on all sides by the rolling hills of England's most beautiful county, Dorset, with only a narrow watercourse leading from the bay to the English Channel. The Studland headland is just visible as you looked along the coastline from the highest point, the Old Harry rocks standing proud and resilient against the waves.

A grand country estate stands upon the island, an elegant Georgian structure surrounded by grassy fields and pleasant woodland. It was the country home of one of the country's most successful automobile manufacturers, his new wife Sue, his son Kurt, and, of course, numerous servants, grounds men and stable lads.

Kurt Hummel was hosting one of his famous soirees; the crème de crème of society was invited to his father's country estate for the weekend, and various deals, of both business and matrimonial kinds, were usually struck by those who met at a Hummel party. His father was, as usual, away on business. It was generally accepted among the staff that control of the household was in the hands of the master's son, although the new Mrs Hummel made it clear that she felt she should be in charge.

The guests had all duly arrived by boat, the only way to access the island, and were currently gathered in the entrance hall. The boats they had hired to bring them to island had departed, the fishermen needing them for their weekend fishing. Only Kurt Hummel's pleasure yacht remained in the small harbour, currently undergoing repairs for a leak it had sprung on its last trip.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!" Kurt Hummel's clear voice rang out across the room. All the mingling guests turned in the direction of the noise. He stood, clad in impeccable black tie, at the foot of the grand marble staircase to address the group. "Thank you all so much for coming! If you would like to follow me to the drawing room, drinks will be served."

The group followed his instructions and gathered in the drawing room. William Schuester, the handsome first footman, stood attentively by the drinks table, appropriately attired in black tailcoat and white bow tie. The first to approach him was Mrs Susan Hummel (née Sylvester), a tall, slim blonde in her late forties who, as rumour had it, married Bertram Hummel for his money and little else. She grabbed the proffered glass of whiskey and knocked it back, saying, "I'm gonna need this to get through an evening with this pile of cretinous morons."

Rachel Berry, a young American starlet, was the next at the drinks table, requesting a Martini. She informed all those who cared to listen about the dangers of sparkling drinks to the voice box. One of the more willing recipients of her advice was her escort, Finn Hudson. He was her most ardent fan, and attended every one of her shows and films with great enthusiasm. It was clear to all apart from Miss Berry herself that Finn Hudson was completely in love with the vivacious girl in the dark red taffeta frock.

Noah Puckerman, the famous private detective, was the next to approach the bar. He and Kurt Hummel had often corresponded, discussing various issues of the day, from the state of the Empire to a recent scandal involving various members of the Royal family. Barely a week went by without a letter from Mr Puckerman arriving at the Hummel household, although the topic never veered from current affairs.

Mr Puckerman smirked as he observed Miss Berry's reaction to the girl on his arm. The brunette was clearly used to being the centre of attention, and did not appear to take kindly to the radiant, golden-haired beauty he escorted: The Honourable Quinn Fabray, the most sought after dinner guest in the country.

She wore a satin silver gown that swept the floor, the dress glimmering with diamonds. She herself shone like a jewel, her smile lighting up the room. As they moved away from the table having collected their drinks, Quinn Fabray's held in an elegantly gloved hand. Miss Berry approached the pair, loudly introducing herself.

Rachel may not have liked the girl stealing her thunder, but she was savvy enough to realise that the blonde had a lot of influence in the right circles, and was determined to ingratiate herself.

Arthur Abrams rolled up next, a small man ensconced in a wheeled chair. He was known as a determined and aggressive businessman, but very few people dared inquire as to which was his particular area of business. Many rumours circulated about what had happened to his competition over the years, from blackmail to concrete boots. Most people felt it was safer to just agree to any requests he had and hope against hope that he would not be displeased. He was accompanied by the Lady Christina Cohen-Chang, a beautiful Oriental girl who had married the late Lord Cohen when he was in his fifties, shortly before an unfortunate incident with some bad seafood had left her a widowed millionairess. That was how she could afford the diamond and sapphire encrusted cobalt blue gown she was currently wearing. She and Mr Abrams had been secret lovers for some time—not realising that their relationship was patently obvious to almost everyone they met.

The last to the drinks table was Miss Mercedes Jones, a well-known American cabaret singer. She was Kurt Hummel's best friend, a large black girl with one hell of a voice, dressed in a deep purple cocktail gown. She smiled at Will Shuester as she accepted her usual glass of orange juice—she was strictly teetotal.

Kurt Hummel surveyed the room, observing Mr Abrams and Lady Cohen-Chang in close conversation. Mr Puckerman was sitting on one of the many sofas, Rachel Berry on one side, Quinn Fabray on the other. Quinn seemed vaguely irritated by the small brunette who had had better luck engaging Mr. Puckerman in conversation than she had with Miss Fabray.

Kurt could hear her ringing voice over the general chatter as she explained the details of her latest role. Mr Puckerman gave every impression of listening intently, but Kurt recognised the glazed look in his eyes as she went into greater depth about the heroine's inner struggle as she climbed the rocky road to stardom. It was the same look he himself wore whenever his father attempted to speak to him about the technical details of whatever new model of car his company was producing.

Finn Hudson was standing just behind Rachel, hovering protectively. Finn was a little jealous of the good looking man seated next her who seemed to be able to hold the attention of every woman to whom he spoke. The bulk of his jealousy though was reserved for the man who had given Rachel the sizable diamond currently sparkling on her ring finger. That man was Jesse St James, the film star, Miss Berry's fiancé. Finn was sure that he had only asked Rachel to marry him because of her success on the stage and screen, whereas he himself would have happily married her had she had nothing but her own self.

Mercedes came to stand next to Kurt, nudging him gently to get his attention. "Party's fabulous."

He grinned at her. "Of course is it, 'Cedes. My parties always are."

"So remind me. Who is everyone?"

"Well, the garrulous girl in the burgundy taffeta monstrosity is Rachel Berry."

"Oh right, the film star."

"Mm-hm. Now, she's engaged to Jesse St James, who's in St Moritz at the moment. See the ring? Cartier. Must be three carats at least."

"Damn!"

"I'll say. You see the tall and strangely attractive man standing over with a dopey expression?"

"Uh-huh."

"He's Finn Hudson. Her father's best friend's son, or something like that. Anyway, he's completely in love with her."

"Right. Unrequited?"

"Yes, she's fallen hard for the St James bloke, although rumour has it that he doesn't feel the same, and is just marrying her for the money."

"Poor girl."

"If you say so. The blonde in the stunning silver Chanel is the Honourable Quinn Fabray."

"Quite a catch for one of your dos!"

"I know. And the dark and handsome chap she's sitting next to is Noah Puckerman."

"The detective?"

"The detective."

"The guy you write to all the time?"

"That's the one."

"You know, he came up in conversation at a party the other day."

"He did?"

"Uh-huh. I heard on the grapevine that whilst the 'honourable' Miss Fabray has been chasing him for the past six months, Noah Puckerman has always been otherwise inclined."

"Oh?" He didn't bother to conceal his lack of interest. He only discussed current affairs with the man; why should he care which woman the detective wanted?

"Otherwise inclined towards those of a less than feminine nature." Mercedes phrased her response carefully.

"Oh!" Realisation hit him. That would explain why the admittedly gorgeous man had been glancing in his direction all evening. Kurt's own preference for lovers of the male gender was the worst kept secret in the country. He mentally kicked himself for not realising sooner the reason behind Mr Puckerman's eager correspondence.

"So the guy in the chair is?" Mercedes question distracted him from thoughts of Noah Puckerman.

"That's Arthur Abrams."

Mercedes' eyes widened, and she did a double take to look back at him. "The city guy?"

"Yep."

"But I've heard about his reputation… he's in a wheelchair?"

"Don't let that fool you. He's just as ruthless as anyone who isn't, probably more so."

She nodded, and then gestured at the Oriental girl on the sofa next to him. "So that must be the notorious Lady Christina Cohen-Chang."

"Bingo."

"She doesn't look like I'd imagined, either."

"If there's one thing you learn in London society, Mercedes, it's that no one ever looks like their reputations would have you believe."

* * *

**So that's the first chapter - what did you think?**

**There will be thirteen in total, and I'll be posting them over the next week.  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: Empty Chairs At An Empty Table**

**Author:** lil-miss-chocolate

**Rating:** This chapter, PG. Will go up next chapter.

**Characters:** Kurt, Puck, Mercedes, Rachel, Quinn, Tina, Artie, Will, Emma, Sue, Figgins (briefly), Burt (referenced but no appearance), Jesse (referenced but no appearance).

**Pairings:** Kurt/Puck is the main one, the rest are a little intricate.

**Genre:** Crime/Romance

**Warnings:** Various character deaths, some angsty stuff, some smut, and some sickeningly fluffy stuff.

**Spoilers:** None

**Summary:** An AU 1920's murder mystery featuring the Glee club (and assorted friends and relatives).

**Disclaimer:** I don't make the toys, I just play with them. And the idea of a 1920's murder mystery belongs to an anon on the Glee Kink Meme.

**Word Count: ~ **18,000 in total. Chapters vary. Second chapter: ~2,000

**Beta: **Slash_Pl0x. He saved this story from my incapable hands and made it fab, so much love to him.

* * *

**Chapter 2/13**

At seven thirty they were distracted by Emma, the red-headed head housemaid in traditional black and white uniform, striking the dinner gong. The group stood and made their way to the dining room, taking their seats around the long table. Kurt, as host, sat at the head of the table, his step mother at the opposite end. To his left sat Quinn, Finn Hudson, then Mercedes, and to his right, Lady Cohen-Chang, Arthur Abrams, Rachel Berry and Noah Puckerman. Rachel was particularly pleased with the seating plan, as this gave her the opportunity to continue her discussion with Puck, as he had requested she call him.

The chatter died down as the serving staff brought in the first course, a small salad featuring smoked salmon, black pudding and saffron cream. Many of the guests raised their eyebrows at this odd mix of tastes, but were pleasantly surprised when they began to eat.

Kurt had made a compliment about Quinn's dress when they first sat down, which led into them happily discussing the latest London fashions. As they talked, he noticed an unusual expression in her eyes, something between sadness and anger, as she glanced to where Rachel was chatting animatedly with Puck.

"It's a very important, almost iconic role. Never before has a woman been portrayed so—"

The starlet's voice was drowned out by Sue's strident tones, "Well, this is all very interesting, but some of us have more important things to think about than the effects of the war on theatre. My gymnastics squad is taking part in the National championships next month, and I simply don't have the time to listen to any more of your inane babble." With that comment, she stood from her seat (all of the gentlemen hastily rising as she did so) and strode out of the room.

There was a brief silence as the gentlemen resumed their seats before Kurt spoke, "I do apologise, everyone. You must forgive my step mother's rudeness; please, continue with your dinner."

The conversation quickly resumed; all present were aware of Mrs Hummel's notorious rants, so they moved swiftly on.

Rachel Berry, however, had been shocked into silence by Sue's abrupt words and departure. Inane? But surely her insight was invaluable to those with interests in the arts? She stole sidelong glances at those to whom she had been speaking. They all seemed a little relieved by her silence, and had turned to talk with those around them. Even Puck had caught the eye of someone at the other end of the table. Rachel picked up her fork and started to eat. She wasn't about to let the whole room know how much Sue's comment had hurt her; she would just continue with her meal. She gazed miserably at her plate as she ate.

Puck, meanwhile, had become distracted by his host's antics at the opposite end of the table.

Quinn had turned to speak to Finn and Mercedes, who were seated to her left, leaving Kurt, once again, observing his guests. His hand had slipped as he had laughed at one of Mercedes' comments, leaving a trail of saffron cream by the corner of his mouth. He had discreetly used his reflection in a spoon to assist him in removing it, his gaze meeting Noah Puckerman's as he glanced down the table to ensure that he was unobserved. Something in Puckerman's expression had caused him to raise his eyebrows slightly at the handsome man, and he had proceeded to use his tongue to suggestively remove the creamy liquid. Kurt saw Puck shift uncomfortably in his seat and smiled to himself. Unless he was much mistaken, he was going to be privately entertaining Noah Puckerman before the night was out.

Unnoticed on Puck's right hand side, Rachel could feel tears beginning to prick the back of her eyes as she was ignored by those around her. She was used to being the star, but had now been completely usurped by Quinn Fabray, a vacuous socialite, and Mercedes Jones, a common cabaret singer. She was sure that neither of them had her talent, but for some reason people just never seemed to warm to her they way they did to those like Quinn and Mercedes.

She excused herself and headed down the corridor to the staircase, heading upstairs to the lavatory, halting as she passed a pair of curtains that clearly concealed two members of staff. She pulled the curtains back sharply to reveal the first footman and the head housemaid kissing in a close embrace. They jumped apart as the curtains parted, and looked sheepishly at the floor when they realised who had discovered them. Rachel launched into a whispered tirade about appropriate behaviour, closing with a promise that the Hummels would be informed as soon as the party was over.

As she flounced off towards the staircase, Will and Emma exchanged worried looks. Kurt Hummel knew about their relationship and was happy to let it continue, but if Sue found out, she would finally have a good enough excuse to sack them—something she had been searching for ever since she had arrived in the Hummel household and overheard Will Shuester make an unkind comment about her hair.

Emma started to panic as the realisation that she might lose her job hit her, but Will silenced her with a gentle kiss. "Don't worry, Em, I'll talk to her, make her see that telling Mrs Hummel isn't the best plan. You go back to serving; I'll be back in a while." He headed upstairs after the diminutive diva.

Back in the dining room, the atmosphere remained much the same. The guests made small talk as the plates were cleared, and the main course was brought in with much ceremony. Figgins, the butler, carved the roast lamb, which was distributed among the guests by a still somewhat flustered Emma. She paused, unsure what to do as she brought the vegetables to Miss Berry's empty seat. Finn Hudson noticed and spoke across the table, "Miss Berry'll have a little of everything." He turned to Quinn, seated to his right, and said in worried tone, "Do you think she's alright?"

"I'm sure she's fine. Perhaps she got a little lost; I'll go and look if you like."

"Really? Would you?"

"Of course, I need to powder my nose anyway." With that she rose and left the room, all the men, barring Mr. Abrams, of course standing as she did so.

Kurt was only slightly concerned that Rachel had not yet reappeared. He put it down to her divaish ways, and the fact that his stepmother's bark was a lot worse than her bite. He was far more interested in finding the most seductive way to eat carrots as he engaged in what could only be described as 'eye-sex' with Noah Puckerman.

Quinn passed the returning Will Schuester as she made her way up the marble staircase. He avoided her eye as he passed her, but she seemed to be thinking of other things as she reached the landing and headed towards the bathroom.

Quinn returned a few minutes later, her pretty face arranged in a delicate frown. "She's not in the main lavatory, and I called down the corridor. I couldn't find her."

Kurt beckoned to Figgins at her words, and quietly instructed him to tell the staff to keep an eye open for the young starlet. "Most likely she's having a hissy fit in a bedroom somewhere, but be on the lookout. Make sure she doesn't end up outside; the dogs are out, and they don't take kindly to strangers." He turned to the tall young man beside Quinn, "I'm sure she just needs a few moments to herself, I expect she'll be back with us presently."

Chatter continued around the table. Tina Cohen-Chang and Arthur Abrams had remained deep in conversation throughout the evening's events, whilst Mercedes and Puck had started some cheerful banter regarding her latest show, which he had happened to see a few weeks earlier. Kurt and Quinn further discussed the merits of beading over jewelling on evening dresses, occasionally trying to bring Finn into the conversation. Finn, however, ate in silence, clearly getting more and more worried by the minute.

By quarter past eight, Kurt, as host, realised he had to do something to keep his dinner party from turning into a vanishing act (he had also just finished his meal, and was beginning to get a little bored—Quinn was clearly thinking of other things as she had just said that she thought that orange beading on purple satin was chic). Finn's worry seemed to have infected the whole group, so he stood and announced his intention to search for the missing diva, asking his guests to forgive him for leaving them, but saying that he was sure that they would be as devastated as him if anything should happen to Miss Berry. A few of the guests exchanged looks at this, clearly completely un-devastated at the idea that they would not have to put up with her long and involved explanations of modern theatre.

Kurt departed, leaving the group of six remaining guests to their own devices.

Kurt started on the ground floor, poking his head around the doors of the various rooms: the library, the music room, the drawing room, the morning room, the garden room (the doors onto the terrace still locked shut) and the billiards room all got a cursory inspection. He avoided his step-mother's study, knowing that that was the one room in the house Rachel would not have dared enter. He didn't go beyond the baize door to the servants' quarters—he doubted that Rachel was the type to go below stairs for any reason, and anyway, the staff were looking for her there. He then made his way upstairs to check the bedrooms and bathrooms.

Kurt returned after about ten minutes, unable to find a trace of the brunette.

"I do apologise, ladies and gentlemen, but I think we should split up and start a search. I've done a quick check of every room, and I don't see her anywhere. She doesn't appear to be in either the cellars or the attic, and I've asked Figgins to instigate a search of the servants' quarters. They have already checked the kitchens, and all the doors to the grounds have been locked since the last guests arrived."

Puck studied his expression as he spoke, but there was no outward sign of worry or alarm. He supposed Rachel was just having a diva moment, sulking somewhere.

The group murmured their assent, and they spread out around the house. Most were not that worried about the young star, but it was more entertaining to search than to watch her escort get more and more miserable as time went on. Finn headed in the direction of the cellars, whilst Lady Cohen-Chang and Arthur Abrams decided to do a thorough search of the ground floor. Quinn and Mercedes separated and looked on the first floor, which left Kurt and Puck to search the second floor.

Tina and Artie (as they were known to their close friends) discovered Sue Hummel in the study, and received a short shrift when they attempted to search the room. They backed out of the study and made their way through the grand rooms, keeping their eyes peeled for any sign of the small brunette. They checked every nook and cranny where she might have been hiding, calling her name all the while. After about half an hour's intensive searching however, they decided that if Rachel Berry was hiding somewhere on the ground floor, she was very good at it and clearly did not want to be found. They gave up on their search and ended up canoodling in the music room.

* * *

**A quick explanation for those who were confused about the men standing up all the time: I don't know if it's just Britain, but it was certainly customary up until about the '60s for gentlemen to stand when a lady stood or entered the room. In a formal dinner situation like this, it would be very strictly observed, even if it does mean the men bobbing up and down like yoyos (obviously, female staff did not count as 'ladies'). Even now, most men that I know over the age of about 55 will stand when a woman approaches. Just explaining because my wonderful beta Slash_Pl0x said that not everyone knew this.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: Empty Chairs At An Empty Table**

**Author:** lil-miss-chocolate

**Rating:** NC17

**Characters:** Kurt, Puck, Mercedes, Rachel, Quinn, Tina, Artie, Will, Emma, Sue, Figgins (briefly), Burt (referenced but no appearance), Jesse (referenced but no appearance).

**Pairings:** Kurt/Puck is the main one, the rest are a little intricate.

**Genre:** Crime/Romance

**Warnings:** Various character deaths, some angsty stuff, some smut, and some sickeningly fluffy stuff.

**Spoilers:** None

**Summary:** An AU 1920's murder mystery featuring the Glee club (and assorted friends and relatives).

**Disclaimer:** I don't make the toys, I just play with them. And the idea of a 1920's murder mystery belongs to an anon on the Glee Kink Meme.

**Word Count: ~**18,000 in total. Chapters vary. Third chapter: ~1,400

**Beta: **Slash_Pl0x. He saved this story from my incapable hands and made it fab, so much love to him.

**And the rating jumps up to NC17. This being written by me, I had to have smut in it somewhere. If you **_**are**_** actually just reading for the plot, and want to skip it, just scroll past the marked section. You won't miss much, plotwise.**

**I did my research on this - according to Wikipedia, KY was invented in 1904, although it wasn't used widely as a 'personal lubricant' till several years later.**

**Chapter 3/13**

Kurt waited as all the guests announced their intentions to search particular areas. He was planning to search the second floor, where his bedroom was, and was waiting to see if the handsome Noah Puckerman might join him there. Mercedes, recognising his intention, had suggested that she and Quinn Fabray search the first floor, so they departed together, leaving Kurt and Puck behind.

"Mr. Puckerman," Kurt began, but was cut off.

"Call me Noah. Please."

A suggestive smile spread over Kurt's face. "Noah then. I was wondering if you would care to accompany me to search the second floor? I think a thorough search of my bedroom might yield satisfactory results."

Puck smirked and replied, "It might take us a while."

"I do hope so. It's this way." Kurt led the taller man up several flights of stairs, down a well lit corridor, and into his sumptuous bedroom. A four poster bed, with golden posts and turquoise satin sheets, dominated the room.

**Lemon Starts. Lemon Starts. Lemon Starts. Lemon Starts. Lemon Starts. **

**Lemon Starts. Lemon Starts. Lemon Starts. Lemon Starts. Lemon Starts. **

**Lemon Starts. Lemon Starts. Lemon Starts. Lemon Starts. Lemon Starts. **

**Lemon Starts. Lemon Starts. Lemon Starts. Lemon Starts. Lemon Starts. **

**Lemon Starts. Lemon Starts. Lemon Starts. Lemon Starts. Lemon Starts. **

As soon as Puck closed the door behind him, Kurt pinned him to it, hands on shoulders, lips against lips. Puck's hands found their way to Kurt's waist, pulling the slim man towards him so their bodies were pressed together as their tongues explored each other's mouths. Kurt gently sucked on Puck's lower lip, right hand making its way down Puck's chest. He caressed each muscle as he went, his hand finally stopping as it reached the black leather belt. He tugged the white shirt from the trousers and nimbly undid each button, hand moving back up until only the neatly fastened black bow tie held the front of the shirt closed. This was quickly removed, and shirt and jacket discarded to the plush carpet beneath their feet.

Kurt stepped back to admire the tanned expanse of skin before him. He licked his lips before pulling Puck down for another kiss, his own jacket draped gracefully across a chair. As they pressed close a second time, there was no mistaking the growing hardness in the fronts of both of their trousers. Kurt thrust his hips forward as Puck ravished his mouth, gasping slightly at the sensation.

Kurt took hold of both of Puck's hands and pulled him over to his enormous bed. He stood with the back of his legs against the satin sheets as he undid first Puck's belt, and then his trousers, sliding them from his hips to the floor. Puck did the same to Kurt then rested his fingertips on the buttons of Kurt's silk underpants, pausing for a moment to allow a Kurt a chance to stop if he wanted. Kurt had no such inclination, and restarted his assault on Puck's mouth as encouragement to continue. Underwear out of the way, Kurt stood naked before Puck, his finely wrought physique displayed beautifully by the modern electric lighting.

Puck's hands went to Kurt's rounded buttocks, picking him up and seating him on the high bed.

"You're beautiful," he murmured as he did so.

"So are you," Kurt replied as he jerked down Puck's underpants and pushed them to the floor. He slid himself backwards across the sheet, inviting Puck to join him. After an undignified scramble up onto the bed, the height and the slipperiness of the sheets making it tricky, Puck took Kurt into his arms again, capturing his mouth in a searing kiss.

Kurt moaned into his mouth as their cocks brushed together, their hips thrusting against each other with wild abandon. They rolled over so Kurt was lying on top, his hands flying all over Puck's skin, trying to feel as much as possible. His right hand slipped down to the detective's cock, stroking gently before darting behind to caress his balls. Kurt manoeuvred his body so he was kneeling between Puck's legs, left hand moving firmly up and down his shaft as he licked his right forefinger. He felt behind Puck's balls, locating his small hole. He gently pushed his finger in — it went in quite easily, Puck was clearly not new to this. He still reached over to his bedside table and extracted the container of KY concealed there, not wanting to hurt him. He'd first come across the lubricant at university; the medical students used it to lubricate their surgical tools, and one of them had introduced Kurt to its possibilities in the bedroom.

He slicked up his remaining fingers, and slipped them in one by one, until he had three fingers buried inside the larger man. He scissored his fingers in and out, stretching out Puck's hole in preparation for his cock. Kurt turned his hand around and curled his fingers up, trying to find that bundle of nerves that he knew was hidden somewhere.

Puck yelled as Kurt's fingers finally found that magic spot inside him. "Ohhh, Kurt... fuck me!"

"With pleasure." He lubed up his cock and slowly slid into Puck's stretched hole, leaning his weight on his arms. His voiced suddenly pitched much lower, he groaned, "O-oh, Noah..." The tightness felt so good around his cock, so warm and close. He gazed into Puck's eyes as he reached the hilt, revelling in the look of pure ecstasy he saw there. Puck's head was tilted back, but he still kept his eyes locked on Kurt's, feeling the stretch of the other man's cock inside him.

Kurt was clearly waiting for him to make the next move, not wanting to hurt him. Puck moved his hips up, the pressure moving slightly as he did so, and Kurt began to slide himself out, ready to thrust in again. He did so, still moving slowly and carefully to allow Puck to stretch to accommodate him. He wanted the man beneath him to enjoy this as much as he was. Kurt soon found a rhythm that suited them both, his hips swiftly moving back and forth as he felt his climax begin to build. He made sure he angled to hit Puck's prostate, determined to bring him off before he came himself.

"Oh fuck, Kurt!" Puck yelled as he came, spurting over their stomachs. Kurt thrust in one final time as Puck tightened around him, the feeling setting off his own orgasm. He dropped onto Puck's chest as his arms gave way. Both were panting heavily as they came back down. Puck closed his arms around Kurt's waist, holding him close. Kurt slipped out of him as Puck rolled them onto their sides.

**Lemon Ends. Lemon Ends. Lemon Ends. Lemon Ends. Lemon Ends. Lemon Ends. **

**Lemon Ends. Lemon Ends. Lemon Ends. Lemon Ends. Lemon Ends. Lemon Ends. **

**Lemon Ends. Lemon Ends. Lemon Ends. Lemon Ends. Lemon Ends. Lemon Ends. **

**Lemon Ends. Lemon Ends. Lemon Ends. Lemon Ends. Lemon Ends. Lemon Ends. **

**Lemon Ends. Lemon Ends. Lemon Ends. Lemon Ends. Lemon Ends. Lemon Ends. **

"Noah..." Kurt whispered softly. "That was... wonderful."

Puck leaned forward to kiss the tip of his nose. "It was."

For a moment that seemed to last a lifetime they just lay in silence, their heartbeats the only sound. Then Kurt pulled back, a sad expression on his face. "I have to freshen up and go help search."

Puck nodded. "Wish you could stay here."

"Me too." Kurt kissed his lips gently, then slid out of the bed. "I don't know what we'll do if we can't find her; we don't have a phone line to the mainland, and all the boats are out of use." He shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm sure we'll find her somewhere." He pulled on his underwear, gathered up his clothes, and walked to the door.

"My bathroom's just down the landing; I'll be back in a minute." Kurt seemed almost clinical now, the vulnerable side of him that Puck had briefly seen closed off again, as though afraid of being hurt.

Puck followed him to the door, catching Kurt's wrist as he reached him. "Wait a moment."

Kurt looked at him with an odd expression, guarded, but hopeful. "Yes?"

"I... it wasn't just... it wasn't just for the sex. I really like you, Kurt. I mean, I've really enjoyed reading your letters, and talking to you, and hearing what you think about things. And don't want you think I came here just to… you know…"

The awkwardness was worth the brilliant smile that spread across Kurt's face. He shifted all his clothing to his right arm and twined his left around Puck's neck, pulling him down for a kiss.

Kurt's smile was still present as he stepped back. "I'll be right back," he said, and he darted out of the door.

Puck gazed at the closed door for a moment, then shook himself. He was going to have to go and look for that Rachel girl in a minute; clothes would probably be required. He picked up his trousers and pulled them on, then started searching for the remainder of his clothing.

**Well, that's the most vanilla sex I've ever written.**

**There are only so many words that are synonymous with 'slide' and I think I used them all far too many times. But what else can you do when writing a sex scene with silk all over the shop?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: Empty Chairs At An Empty Table**

**Author:** lil-miss-chocolate

**Rating:** This chapter, PG.

**Characters:** Kurt, Puck, Mercedes, Rachel, Quinn, Tina, Artie, Will, Emma, Sue, Figgins (briefly), Burt (referenced but no appearance), Jesse (referenced but no appearance).

**Pairings:** Kurt/Puck is the main one, the rest are a little intricate.

**Genre:** Crime/Romance

**Warnings:** Various character deaths, some angsty stuff, some smut, and some sickeningly fluffy stuff.

**Spoilers:** None

**Summary:** An AU 1920's murder mystery featuring the Glee club (and assorted friends and relatives).

**Disclaimer:** I don't make the toys, I just play with them. And the idea of a 1920's murder mystery belongs to an anon on the Glee Kink Meme.

**Word Count: ~**18,000 in total. Chapters vary. Fourth chapter: ~1,400

**Beta: **Slash_Pl0x. He saved this story from my incapable hands and made it fab, so much love to him.

* * *

**Chapter 4/13**

Mercedes searched the first floor carefully, making sure to check every bathroom where the diva might be hiding. She checked the east wing, Quinn Fabray the west. In the end though, both realised their search was fruitless, and, meeting in the hallway, decided to call it a night and go back to their own rooms—the party was clearly not going to continue that evening.

Mercedes took out her night gown and shivered. It was a cold night (unsurprisingly; it was November after all). She rang the bell for the maid, and asked her to fetch her few more blankets. She loved Kurt's rambling manor house, but it was an old building, and the insulation was terrible with draughts often coming in through the window frames.

Emma walked down the empty corridor to the storeroom at the end. She entered the large cupboard and glanced at the big hamper where spare blankets were usually kept. It was, unusually, empty, so she turned to the huge linen chest and started to rummage under the sheets on the top layer, wincing as she did so. She didn't like reaching into places she couldn't see, especially ones that could have so many germs in them. She froze when her hand closed on a disturbingly warm object, which felt nothing like the hot water bottles the staff used.

Instead of fairly flat with a silky cover, the object was cylindrical, with what felt like soft hairs on its surface. She gulped and looked down. In her hand was a tanned arm, with a huge diamond winking at her from the ring finger. The scream she let loose was loud enough to bring every single guest and servant running. Even the dogs in the park heard, and started up their own din. She pulled back, forgetting to release the arm as she did so. It jerked horribly as the tug revealed that it was still attached to the body concealed beneath the sheets.

Will Shuester, who had been nearby when he heard her, ran into the room to see her glued to the spot, her hands covering her mouth as she wailed. He enfolded her in his arms as she stared in horror at the linen chest. Mercedes burst into the room, taking in the scene before her. She followed Emma's gaze and peered into the chest, recoiling as she saw the arm sticking out from under the sheets.

"Oh my God..." she exclaimed.

Quinn was next into the room. "What on earth happened?" She saw the three huddled around the wooden chest. "What's in there?"

Mercedes was as pale as her complexion would allow. "Don't look," she said weakly.

"What is it?" Quinn approached the chest anyway and looked. "Oh..." Her face bore an expression of distaste, as though she had just seen someone throwing up. Emma was still faintly moaning, Will gently rubbing her back.

The group heard pounding footsteps as Puck ran down the corridor to the source of the scream. He had pulled on his shirt, buttoning it as he ran, but hadn't bothered with shoes—whoever had screamed had sounded truly terrified. He had raced down from the second floor without a second thought, all his protective instincts suddenly coming to the fore. He burst into the room, not sure what he was expecting to see, but certainly not what he saw in front of him. He moved protectively to Quinn as he took in the horror on the faces of those around him.

"What happened?"

Mercedes pointed a shaky finger at the chest. He closed his eyes as he recognised the arm protruding from under the sheets. He really did not want to have to deal with another dead body. Especially someone as high profile as Miss Berry. He was here for a weekend break; he was trying to get away from work. Puck gently took hold of her wrist to double check for a pulse. Definitely dead.

Kurt's lighter footsteps had followed Puck's, and he rapidly assessed the situation. He wasn't exactly surprised that Rachel, of all his guests, had been killed, but it really did ruin the party; his brain threw up trivial details to avoid the realisation that someone had been murdered in his own home. He and Puck turned to the door as they heard Finn's heavy footfalls behind them. He had clearly pelted up from the cellars when he had heard Emma's scream. This was going to be difficult—they both knew that bodies mustn't be moved, and it was going to take a lot to stop Finn from throwing himself in the chest with her. The two men moved to block his view of the chest as he gazed around, baffled.

"What happened? Who screamed?"

Mercedes stepped forward. "Finn, it's… it's Rachel." She took a deep breath and continued, "I'm afraid Rachel's been... she's been killed."

"What? No!" He made as though to move towards the chest that was the obvious centre of attention, but Kurt and Puck each told hold of an arm and held him back.

Puck spoke calmly to the tall man, "Mr. Hudson, we mustn't move her. Not until we've found out what happened. If you touch her, we might lose some clue as to who did this. Do you understand?"

Finn's distraught expression was enough to touch even the hardest of hearts. "But she—" he exclaimed as he struggled to free himself, gesturing at the chest. "She's so vibrant, she... she can't be dead..." The blow of what had happened hit him and he collapsed to the floor, his legs unable to hold him up any longer. He sat on the carpet, tears streaming freely down his cheeks.

The last guests to arrive were Lady Cohen-Chang and Mr. Abrams (they had had to use the lift from the ground floor). Tina wheeled him into the room, the pair registering the arm now resting on the side of the chest. Tina paused, shocked, as Artie wheeled himself over.

"I have some experience in these matters," he said as he peered over the edge of the chest, which was nearly at his eye level. "Would you?" He gestured at the blankets and looked at Puck, who glanced at the rest of the group. He realised he would have to take charge and conduct some sort of an investigation—they wouldn't be able to contact the police until a boat arrived, and there weren't any due to arrive until the Monday morning to collect the guests.

Puck nodded at Artie. "Just a moment." He addressed the group, "Alright, ladies and gents. I'm going to need to speak to each of you individually later, but right now we need to find out exactly what caused Miss Berry's death. So if you could all wait outside whilst we examine the body, that would very helpful. That includes the staff," he added, looking pointedly at Will and Emma. He caught Kurt's attention as everyone turned towards the door, and spoke to him in a low tone, "Make sure they don't talk to each other too much. I don't want them comparing stories." Kurt nodded and followed the group from the room, leaving only Puck and Artie behind.

Kurt stepped out into the corridor. Finn had sunk into a chair on the landing, Mercedes and Quinn standing on either side of him, hands resting on his shoulders. Tina was standing alone, her arms wrapped folded together as though to protect herself. Emma was standing, still shaking, by a large decorative vase, Will's arms still encircling her waist. No one was speaking, most still in shock from the discovery. None of them had _liked_ Rachel Berry very much, but the idea that she had been murdered whilst they'd all been in the house was more than a little discomforting.

The first thought that occurred was that someone had broken in, but that idea was quickly dismissed because all of the outside doors were locked. It was also very difficult to get onto the island without being seen—the only place a boat could safely moor on the island was in the harbour, where there was always at least one member of staff to notice its coming and going. It was decided that it must have been someone already known on the island that had done it. The question was — who?

* * *

**And now the usual whoring for reviews - if you liked it, let me know. If you didn't, let me know why. :-D**


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: Empty Chairs At An Empty Table**

**Author:** lil-miss-chocolate

**Rating:** This chapter, PG.

**Characters:** Kurt, Puck, Mercedes, Rachel, Quinn, Tina, Artie, Will, Emma, Sue, Figgins (briefly), Burt (referenced but no appearance), Jesse (referenced but no appearance).

**Pairings:** Kurt/Puck is the main one, the rest are a little intricate.

**Genre:** Crime/Romance

**Warnings:** Various character deaths, some angsty stuff, some smut, and some sickeningly fluffy stuff.

**Spoilers:** None

**Summary:** An AU 1920's murder mystery featuring the Glee club (and assorted friends and relatives).

**Disclaimer:** I don't make the toys, I just play with them. And the idea of a 1920's murder mystery belongs to an anon on the Glee Kink Meme.

**Word Count: ~**18,000 in total. Chapters vary. Fifth chapter: ~1,500

**Beta: **Slash_Pl0x. He saved this story from my incapable hands and made it fab, so much love to him.

* * *

**Chapter 5/13**

Puck moved over to the chest and did a quick once over — there was nothing lying on top of the linen to indicate what was hidden under it. He peeled back the top few layers of blankets, revealing the body beneath. Rachel Berry was lying on her back, limbs akimbo, glassy eyes gazing unseeingly at the ceiling. The cause of death was obvious — someone had slipped a wire of some sort around her neck and strangled her. Puck winced; it was a gruesome way to die; feeling the life gradually slip away as you clawed at the wire around your throat. Her neck was marked with scratch marks, and her beautiful polished nails were chipped. There were clear marks on her fingers where she had grasped the wire, desperately trying to pull it away from her throat.

The wire itself was lying next to her head — it looked like some sort of cheese wire, most likely taken from the sideboard in the dining room. It had left a few bloody stains on the sheets below it, but the handles were clean. Other than the body and the wire, there appeared to be nothing in the chest but sheets and blankets.

Artie carefully examined her as best he could from his chair, taking hold of her wrist and feeling the temperature.

"She's been dead about an hour. No less than 40 minutes."

"How can you tell that just from her wrist?"

"Some of my less meritorious business ventures have ended up with similarly unfortunate situations. The ability to tell the length of time for which someone had been dead has proved vital on occasion."

"Right... passing over that, then. So she was killed sometime between her leaving the table and us all leaving to search for her?"

"Pretty much."

"Well, that rules out you, me, Lady Cohen-Chang and Miss Jones. We never left the dining room. Everyone else is still a suspect—they all left the dining room at some point. It's possible that someone broke in, but surely we would have found some evidence of that when we were searching for Miss Berry."

"So do you want to investigate this together? You're a private detective and I have some knowledge of extracting information from people."

Puck considered this as he looked at the man in front of him. "I don't know if that would be such a good idea. Forgive me, but your... erm... _reputation_ is not the cleanest, and any discoveries we might make might be thrown into doubt because of that. The same goes, to a lesser extent, for Lady Cohen-Chang. I think perhaps it would be best if I worked with Miss Jones on this one. She was in the dining room all evening and so has a cast iron alibi, and she has never been involved in any sort of..." he paused, searching for a suitable term. "Any sort of unsavoury happenings."

Artie shrugged, "Very well. If you need my expertise for anything, I'll be here."

"Thank you, Mr. Abrams. I appreciate it."

The two men left the room to speak to the guests and staff now huddled on the landing. They had been joined by the butler, Figgins, who had come to investigate the disturbance. Artie wheeled himself over to talk to Tina, who was perched on the edge of a chest of drawers, looking a little shaken.

Puck addressed Mercedes, "Miss Jones, could I have a word with you in here?"

She turned and followed him back into the storeroom. "So what are we gonna do with her?"

He raised his eyebrows slightly at her forwardness. "Miss Jones, I need to conduct an investigation into Miss Berry's death, and I would like you to assist me, if you are willing."

"Me? Why?"

"You're the only other person with an alibi and a clean record. Everyone else either has some blemish on their past, or they left the dining room for a long enough period of time that they could have done it. Well, there is Hudson, I suppose, but he's completely in pieces, and he couldn't be objective because he knew her personally."

"Alright then. So what _are_ we gonna do with her?"

"Well, we'll see if we can find any clues as to what caused her death, you know, other than the obvious that she was strangled, and then move her body. Probably to the cold store, in the freezers, if the Hummels have one."

"Okay. So you want me there when you interview people? Second opinion, that sort of thing?"

"Exactly."

"Do you want to talk to any of them tonight?"

"If possible, I'd like to talk to all of them tonight. We'll start with the housemaid who found the body, the red head. What was her name?"

"Emma."

"Right. I'll let them know."

As Puck headed out into the corridor, Mercedes started looked for any clues the killer might have left in the chest. Puck explained the situation to the waiting crowd, all of whom were unimpressed that he was planning to speak to a servant before them.

"Why do you need to talk to her first? It's late, and I would like to go to bed sooner rather than later," Artie asked. "Surely you should be speaking to us first?"

Puck looked over at him, unimpressed. "Because, Mr Abrams, it was Emma who found the body. We need to speak to her whilst the memory is still fresh in her mind."

"H-How long do you plan to take b-before you get to us?" Tina queried.

"However long it takes, Lady Cohen-Chang."

"Puck, do we really all have to hang around whilst you interview _everyone_? Can't this wait until tomorrow?" This was Quinn's question.

"Not really, Quinn. Like I said, it's best to talk to everyone whilst it's fresh in your minds."

"Well, I'm not standing around on some landing when there's a murderer about. I am locking myself in my room and going to bed." She set off towards her room, her route blocked by Puck.

"Quinn, you can't just—"

"Are you going to stop me, Puck?"

"I… no."

He stepped aside, head bowed, allowing her to walk past to her room.

"If she's going, I'm not staying," Artie said, rolling himself towards his room.

"M-me neither," said Tina, walking towards hers.

Puck was silent for a moment, sensing the loss of authority, but unsure how to regain it. Kurt had now walked over to Finn (whose seat was next to where Puck was standing) to rest a comforting hand on his shoulder. The only others remaining were Emma, Will and Figgins. They stayed where they were, not about to disobey a direct instruction.

Puck turned to the three servants. "Emma, William, we'll speak to you tonight when we've finished in here." He gestured at the room, then turned to Kurt, speaking in an undertone. "How's he doing?" He nodded in Finn's direction.

Kurt pulled a face. "Not great. I think it might be better for you to talk to him tomorrow; let him sleep a bit first, get over the worst of the shock."

Puck sighed. "You're probably right. Gah, I do this for a living, I should be better at this."

"It's understandable, Noah. You don't normally have to investigate the death of someone you were happily chatting to a few hours earlier. You don't normally have your—admittedly a little hormonal—best girl friend around to distract you. And maybe it's better this way. People will have had time to collect their thoughts a bit, they'll be clearer if they've slept on it."

Puck knew that this was simply not true, but appreciated Kurt making the effort to cheer him up.

Kurt continued, "Anyway, what are you going to do with, you know, the body? You can't leave her in there all night."

"We'll put the body in the cold store, if that's alright with you. We'll get an autopsy done as soon as we can, but I know we're out of contact with the outside world until Monday."

"I think we've got one of those new fangled freezer devices; I suppose that would be best. You'll have to ask Figgins." Kurt glanced quickly over his shoulder to see Will and Emma looking discreetly in the opposite direction. "Will you stay with me tonight? I don't particularly want to be alone with a murderer on the loose."

"Sure. I've got to treat you as a suspect outwardly, though, 'cause you went out of the room after she did."

"I understand. You're working with Mercedes?"

"Yes. She's got a cast iron alibi."

"Good." Kurt observed Finn, who was still sitting dazedly staring at the wall. "I think he might need a hand getting to bed, I'll sort him out, then I'll go and let Sue know what's happening as she hasn't appeared up here. I doubt she'll care much, though; she's not exactly the type to worry about a murderer on the loose. I'll see you upstairs?"

"Sure thing." They exchanged smiles, and Puck headed off to speak to Figgins about moving the body.


	6. Chapter 6

**Title: Empty Chairs At An Empty Table**

**Author:** lil-miss-chocolate

**Rating:** This chapter, PG.

**Characters:** Kurt, Puck, Mercedes, Rachel, Quinn, Tina, Artie, Will, Emma, Sue, Figgins (briefly), Burt (referenced but no appearance), Jesse (referenced but no appearance).

**Pairings:** Kurt/Puck is the main one, the rest are a little intricate.

**Genre:** Crime/Romance

**Warnings:** Various character deaths, some angsty stuff, some smut, and some sickeningly fluffy stuff.

**Spoilers:** None

**Summary:** An AU 1920's murder mystery featuring the Glee club (and assorted friends and relatives).

**Disclaimer:** I don't make the toys, I just play with them. And the idea of a 1920's murder mystery belongs to an anon on the Glee Kink Meme.

**Word Count: ~**18,000 in total. Chapters vary. Sixth chapter: ~1,100

**Beta: **Slash_Pl0x. He saved this story from my incapable hands and made it fab, so much love to him.

* * *

**I have to get up at silly o'clock to get to the range tomorrow morning, so I'm posting tomorrow morning's chapter now instead. After that we should be back to the standard 'one in the morning, one in the evening' routine.**

* * *

**Chapter 6/13**

After a brief discussion with Figgins, Puck poked his head around the doorway to the linen cupboard. "Found anything?"

"Not a bean. No handy bits of someone's clothes that got caught, no useful threads, nothing."

"Ah well. At least we've got the murder weapon. Not that that tells us much—just that whoever did it was in the dining room at some point."

"Never mind that for now, let's get on with the interviewing before we all fall asleep standing up. There's what, seven people to interview?"

"Eight, actually, counting Mrs Hummel. About that, though…" A sheepish look appeared on his face. "The guests have all gone to bed. There's just Will and Emma to do tonight."

Mercedes was unimpressed. "You let them all just go?"

"Argh, I know. I'm not used to working around people that I actually care about. I'm not usually this bad at letting myself get talked into things, but as soon as Quinn asks me for something, I just cave."

"It was Quinn's idea?"

"Well, no, it was Mr. Abrams' idea. But I didn't let them go until Quinn asked."

Mercedes shook her head in despair. "Just make sure you keep it together when you're interviewing this lot. You're supposed to be the professional here."

Puck mentally shook himself then straightened up. "Right. Let's get on with the interviewing, then. I'd like to get this done as fast as possible."

"Same." Mercedes shuddered as she caught sight of the body yet again. They went out into the hallway, and turned to face the waiting servants. Several footmen, led by Figgins, entered the room to move the body below stairs.

Puck spoke, "Emma?" He waited for her shaky nod and continued, "We'd like to speak with you first. William, if you wouldn't mind waiting out here whilst we chat?" His only response was a terse nod as the curly haired man started to pace the corridor. Puck led the two ladies to one of the myriad empty bedrooms, stopping at the doorway to allow them to enter first. They all sat in the chairs arranged around a small tea table, Emma still clearly very jumpy.

Mercedes began the conversation. "Emma, I know this is stressful for you, but we need to ask you to tell us exactly what happened when you found Miss Berry's body."

"Al-alright. I was going to find some blankets, you know, for you, and there weren't any in the big hamper, so I had to get some from the chest. I-I lifted up the lid and started to feel under the sheets for a blanket. That's when I felt... when I felt..." Her voice wavered as though she might burst into tears, so Puck stepped in.

"Did you move anything when you realised what you'd taken hold of?"

"No! At least… I don't think… I might have pulled it… her! When I pulled away… she was there… under the sheets… I dropped it... her... and screamed. Then Will heard me and rushed in."

"Okay, thank you." Puck altered tack slightly as he heard the tears threatening again. "When was the last time you saw her before that?"

"When we saw her in the hallway when she caught us—" Emma stopped, horrified at what she'd said. She had no desire to lose her job over this.

Puck questioned her, "Who's 'us'? Doing what?"

Emma looked down and mumbled at her lap.

Mercedes spoke, "Emma, whatever happened, we need to know. If we can clear you then we'll be one step closer to finding the killer."

Emma continued to look at her lap as she told them, shamefacedly, about their meeting Rachel in the hallway.

"And William went off after her, did he?" Puck asked in clarification.

"Yes, but... you can't think..." She looked up at him, pleadingly. "He was just going to talk to her. He would never have..."

"Alright then. But we still need to talk to him. Please ask him to step in when you leave."

"So I can go now?"

Mercedes tried to smile reassuringly at her as she nodded. Emma got up and left the room, thoroughly flustered. Will caught her around the waist as she passed him, asking if she was alright.

"Yes, Will, I'm fine. But they were saying… when you went after her… you didn't find her, did you? You said you didn't see her." She looked at him with a pleading expression.

"I didn't, sweetheart. I couldn't find her."

She looked at him, her brown eyes wide.

"I promise you, I didn't lay a finger on her."

She nodded mutely and went on her way.

The two in the room heard their exchange brief words, although they couldn't determine what was said, then heard Will's footsteps approach and Emma's leave.

Will entered the room, closing the door behind him with rather more force than necessary.

"I don't appreciate your bullying Emma. You know she's high strung, Miss Mercedes."

Puck raised his eyebrows at the first footman speaking out of turn like this, but Mercedes took it in stride, "I know that, William, but we have to ask everyone. She found the body, after all."

"I know, and she's still recovering. You saw how nervous she was."

Puck interrupted at this point. "Enough about Emma, we need to speak to _you_. What happened when you entered the linen cupboard?"

"I was walking down the landing when I heard a scream, so I ran towards the sound. When I opened the door I saw Emma standing there, frozen to the spot. I didn't touch anything. Then Miss Mercedes came in. I'm assuming you know what happened from there?"

"Yes, we do," said Puck. "Now, I understand from Emma that you had had an altercation with Miss Berry earlier in the evening?"

"What?"

"Miss Berry discovered you and Emma behind the curtains. She said you went after her?"

"I went after her, but I didn't find her. I went back downstairs—I was hoping to catch her before she could speak to Mrs Hummel. I went back to the serving in the dining room. But I never killed her! I could never kill someone." He looked imploringly at Mercedes.

Puck spoke dryly, "That remains to be seen. Alright then, is there anything else you've seen that you want to tell us?"

"No. I saw Miss Fabray head upstairs a few minutes later, but you already knew that she went in search of her, didn't you?"

"Yes, but thank you. You can go."

Puck and Mercedes turned to look at each other as Will Shuester left the room.

"That seems pretty suspicious," was Puck's initial reaction.

"Yeah, but I know Will Shuester. He might be a bit of a ladies' man, but I don't think he would kill."

"Someone has."

"I know."

"Then who?"

* * *

**Reviews are love!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Title: Empty Chairs At An Empty Table**

**Author:** lil-miss-chocolate

**Rating:** This chapter, PG.

**Characters:** Kurt, Puck, Mercedes, Rachel, Quinn, Tina, Artie, Will, Emma, Sue, Figgins (briefly), Burt (referenced but no appearance), Jesse (referenced but no appearance).

**Pairings:** Kurt/Puck is the main one, the rest are a little intricate.

**Genre:** Crime/Romance

**Warnings:** Various character deaths, some angsty stuff, some smut, and some sickeningly fluffy stuff.

**Spoilers:** None

**Summary:** An AU 1920's murder mystery featuring the Glee club (and assorted friends and relatives).

**Disclaimer:** I don't make the toys, I just play with them. And the idea of a 1920's murder mystery belongs to an anon on the Glee Kink Meme.

**Word Count: ~**18,000 in total. Chapters vary. Seventh chapter: ~1,100

**Beta: **Slash_Pl0x. He saved this story from my incapable hands and made it fab, so much love to him.

* * *

**Chapter 7/13**

Meanwhile, Kurt had gently taken Finn's arm and led him to his bedroom. Finn's valet had been laying out his clothes for the next day. He looked up, surprise registering on his face as he took in his employer's haggard expression. "Mr. Hudson… Mr. Hummel," he acknowledged their entrance and awaited instruction.

"He's had a rather nasty shock. Would you please help him to bed?"

"Of… of course, sir. Wha—" he had cut himself off, realising he was speaking out of turn.

Finn spoke for the first time since he had left the linen cupboard, "I… I just don't understand. Rachel…" He had trailed off.

"I know. Try to sleep, Finn. You'll see things clearer in the morning."

Finn nodded as his valet approached, who had spoken reassuringly to Kurt. "You can leave him with me, sir. I'll make sure he's alright."

Kurt smiled weakly at him, nodded his thanks, and then went downstairs to find his stepmother in her study. She looked up as he entered then moved her attention back to her work as she spoke.

"Oh, hello there, ladyface. What do you want?"

"I thought you might like to know that Rachel Berry was murdered. Didn't you hear Emma's scream when she found the body?"

"Is that what that was? I thought someone had kicked you in the groin. Either that or your voice had finally broken and you were screaming for joy."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I just thought you'd like to know. Mr. Puckerman and Mercedes are going to come and interview you at some point tomorrow morning."

"Mercedes? That big mouthed diva? Why on Earth should she be doing interviews?"

"She's got a rock solid alibi. Unlike you. You stormed out of dinner, expressing an obvious dislike for the victim. Doesn't look so hot for you, does it?"

"I have an obvious dislike for everyone. If I was going to murder anyone, it would have been you, and they never would have found the body. I don't know why I haven't already."

Kurt inspected his nails during this rant, feigning complete disinterest. "Whatever. I'll see you tomorrow," he said, before leaving the room and making his way up to his bedroom (candelabra gripped tight in his hand, just in case).

"So what's going on between you and my boy?"

"Huh?"

"Come on, you were making eyes at each other all evening, then the two of you were conveniently searching the floor where Kurt's bedroom is when we all split up."

"I... um..." Puck floundered, not used to his sexuality being so easily accepted and most definitely not used to talking about it.

"Look, its okay that you two want to be together. I just want to warn you now - break his heart, and I will break you in half. I will castrate you and cut you and beat you to the floor. He's been hurt too many times before by idiots who cleared off as soon as they got into his pants. Are we clear?"

He nodded fervently.

"Good. Have a nice night!" with that, she vanished into her room, leaving Puck standing in the hallway, somewhat confused. He shook himself and headed upstairs.

Puck knocked softly at Kurt's bedroom door, not wanting to disturb him if he was already sleeping.

"Come in!" Kurt's clarion voice rang from inside.

Puck entered the room, revealing Kurt standing by his bed in pale blue silk pyjamas, a small mother-of-pearl handled pistol in his hand aimed at the floor by Puck's feet. "Oh, it's only you," Kurt sighed with relief and dropped the Browning 1910 onto his bedside table. "Much as I enjoy practicing with my Browning on the range, I wasn't looking forward to actually having to use it in self defence."

Puck grinned at him and walked over to envelop the slim man in his arms. "There's no need for that now. No one's going to hurt you. They wouldn't dare take on the mighty Puckerman!" he joked.

Kurt smiled into his chest, arms wrapped around the bigger man's waist. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Looking after me. I know I put on this brazen exterior, but it's nice to have someone looking out for you. Especially when there's a murderer on the loose."

"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere," Puck said, trying and failing to smother a yawn as he spoke.

Kurt chuckled. "I think perhaps going to bed might be sensible. I can't imagine that tomorrow's going to be much fun; you'll need some sleep. And I always need my beauty sleep."

"You're already beautiful, babe, but you're right. Sleep would be a very good thing right now."

They clambered themselves into Kurt's vast king size bed, disposing of most of Puck's clothing on the way. They were cuddling together under the sheets when a thought occurred to Kurt.

"I left the room after Rachel; I had the opportunity. I could be the murderer for all you know."

"Are you?"

"Of course not!"

"Well then."

"You trust me? Just like that?"

"We've been writing to each other for six months now. I know you better than most."

"True… but still…" Kurt marvelled at the other man's trust.

"And anyway, what motive could you have? You hardly knew her. It's far more likely someone who actually knew her well and actively disliked her enough to kill her." Puck placed a kiss onto Kurt's softly fragranced hair. "I really care about you, Kurt."

Kurt rested his head on the taller man's shoulder. "Thank you. Although I still think you don't know me well enough—I might be lying to you right now," he said, snuggling into Puck's side.

Puck smiled. "But you aren't, are you?"

"No."

They fell asleep curled in each other's arms.

They were not the only ones to do so: Tina and Artie Abrams were sharing a bed (Tina pretending to be afraid of the murderer, Artie pretending to believe her), and Will had risked Figgin's ire by sneaking up to the female servants' quarters to curl up with Emma. Mercedes, unflappable as always, slept like a log. Quinn had tossed and turned, unable to get off to sleep. Finn just held a pillow tight in his arms, weeping softly until he finally managed to drift off. Sue took her usual tablets and slept the whole night through.


	8. Chapter 8

**Title: Empty Chairs At An Empty Table**

**Author:** lil-miss-chocolate

**Rating:** This chapter, PG.

**Characters:** Kurt, Puck, Mercedes, Rachel, Quinn, Tina, Artie, Will, Emma, Sue, Figgins (briefly), Burt (referenced but no appearance), Jesse (referenced but no appearance).

**Pairings:** Kurt/Puck is the main one, the rest are a little intricate.

**Genre:** Crime/Romance

**Warnings:** Various character deaths, some angsty stuff, some smut, and some sickeningly fluffy stuff.

**Spoilers:** None

**Summary:** An AU 1920's murder mystery featuring the Glee club (and assorted friends and relatives).

**Disclaimer:** I don't make the toys, I just play with them. And the idea of a 1920's murder mystery belongs to an anon on the Glee Kink Meme.

**Word Count: ~**18,000 in total. Chapters vary. Eighth chapter: ~1,800

**Beta: **Slash_Pl0x. He saved this story from my incapable hands and made it fab, so much love to him.

**

* * *

Chapter 8/13**

The next day dawned bright and clear, though bitingly cold. Kurt nestled further into the arms that were currently encircling him.

"Morning," a voice came from somewhere near his ear.

"Already?" Kurt murmured.

Puck's hand stroked his hair tenderly.

"You stayed. No one's ever stayed before. They've always been gone by morning."

Puck could hardly believe that anyone would willingly leave the bed of such a beautiful man, but reassured him nonetheless, "Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere." He paused as his stomach rumbled and he chuckled. "Except perhaps to breakfast. I'm starving."

Kurt craned his neck to grin up at him. "We always do good breakfasts here. Most important meal of the day and all that malarkey. And you'll need your strength today—I don't envy you having to interview this lot." He shuddered as he recalled the events of the previous night. "I'm glad you're here."

The staff had all risen early to ensure that the fires were lit in the guest's rooms, as usual deliberately _not _noticing who was in whom's bed. The guests gathered in the breakfast room, helping themselves to sausages, eggs, bacon, tomatoes, mushrooms and toast from the dishes laid out on the side. Puck and Mercedes spoke quietly in a corner, observing, and observed by, the others present. Emma had been assigned work below stairs by the housekeeper, who had realised that she was not in the best state to be working above stairs. Will handed around tea and coffee with practiced dexterity, allowing no emotion to show on his face.

As Quinn entered the room, looking radiant as usual in a white skirt suit, Puck excused himself from Mercedes and went over to speak to her.

"How are you, Quinn? I didn't get a chance to talk to you last night. Are you alright?"

"I'm… I'm doing alright. It was a bit of a shock, obviously. It's not exactly comforting when there's a murderer around."

"I know, but Mercedes and I are doing everything we can to find him."

"Did you find… you know… _the wire_?" her voice quietened to a whisper as she finished her question.

"Yes. It was right next to the body. We'll be able to dust it for fingerprints when the police get here, but if the killer was wearing gloves, that won't help us."

"Oh dear. Not much to go on, then?"

Puck sighed. "Not really."

She patted his arm sympathetically, then moved over to the sideboard to help herself to breakfast.

The rest of the guests ate their meals in silence, occasionally sneaking glances at those around them. They all knew that there was a murderer in their midst, and whoever it was was clearly an excellent actor—everyone jumped nervously as the door banged open to reveal Sue Hummel. She strode into the room in full riding attire, clearly intending to go for a ride around the island after breakfast. As she served herself, Puck approached her.

"Mrs. Hummel. We need to speak to you before you leave the house this morning."

"Excuse me? You are attempting to prevent me from leaving my own house so you can carry out your farcical investigation into that vociferous little hussy's death?"

Finn Hudson dropped his fork, a shocked and hurt expression plain on his face.

"That is exactly what I'm doing. You are a suspect in my investigation, a suspect for murder. Therefore you _will_ come and explain to me and Miss Jones exactly what you did after you left the table last night."

She contemplated him for a long moment. "I like a man with a bit of bite. I will condescend to speak to you about the incident. But I will not allow an obstreperous plebeian like _her_ to be present."

Mercedes opened her mouth to speak, raising her arm in an angry gesture, but Puck held his hand out to silence her as he continued, "Yes, you will. Miss Jones is assisting my investigation and her insight is invaluable. We shall speak you in your study as soon as you have finished your breakfast. Or would you prefer me to detain you on suspicion and hand you over to the police when they arrive?"

She regarded him with a mixture of admiration and disgust. "Very well. But only because I have nothing better to do this morning."

He rolled his eyes as soon as she looked away.

Ten minutes later and Mercedes, Puck and Sue entered the study, Sue leading the way. She went straight to her cycling machine and started exercising, leaving Puck and Mercedes standing looking at her in disbelief.

"Mrs. Hummel, you do realise that this is a murder investigation? And that you are a suspect?"

"I strenuously deny any and all allegations against me. And I don't see why I should miss out on my exercise schedule simply because you imbecilic simpletons want to waste my time with your farcical investigations."

"Fine then," Puck said curtly. "Where did you go when you left the dining room?"

"I came straight here, hoping to drown out the sound of that Berry girl's voice with the sound of success— my gymnastics squad are set to become the National champions for the fifth year running."

Mercedes joined the conversation, "How long did you stay here?"

"Until I went to bed. I only need three hours a night thanks to a strict regime of exercise and diet."

Puck broke in with, "So what time _did_ you go to bed?"

"Around two a.m."

"And you didn't leave the room until then?"

"No. I was working on our routine for Nationals."

"Did you see anyone else in that time?"

"The cripple and the Oriental girl tried to search my room. I didn't let them. Then that prissy effeminate son of my husband's came in to tell me some story about a girl in a linen chest."

"What time did these happen?"

"I don't know! I can't be expected to keep track of all the comings and goings of all the oddities and misfits my husband lets wander around his home."

Puck sighed, exasperated. "Mrs. Hummel, you had the opportunity and the motive. Why should we believe that you didn't do it?"

"You said she was found in a linen cupboard. I wouldn't enter one of those if my life depended on it! Think of all the worthless peons that spend their lives in places like that." She shuddered, mainly for show.

Mercedes tried to summarise a timeline of what had happened, "So, you left the dining room at twenty to eight, then stayed in your room until two o'clock?"

"Yes."

"Well, Tina and Mr. Abrams must have come in sometime after half past eight; that was when we all split up and started looking. Miss Berry was found at nine o'clock, and she'd been dead for about an hour. You had plenty of opportunity."

"But you have no proof. And you won't find any." Sue waved a dumbbell threateningly at them. "Because I didn't do it, and you can't prove I did."

Mercedes and Puck shook their heads at each other once they had left the room.

"What do you reckon?" Puck asked. "You know her better than I do. Think she did it?"

"I don't know. I kinda get the feeling that if she'd done it, she'd be bragging about it."

Puck laughed humourlessly. "Probably. Well, let's interview everyone else; see if we can find anyone more likely. And double check that Lady Cohen-Chang and Mr Abrams did actually come in here—though I doubt she was lying about that."

They decided to do the remainder of the interviews in the library, the door for which opened from the drawing room. The staff went about their work as usual, the guests sitting quietly in the drawing room or in their bedrooms. The first to be interviewed was Finn Hudson, as he had been closest to the victim.

Puck took the lead in the interview, interrogating Finn and leaving Mercedes to judge Finn's reactions to his questions.

"Mr. Hudson, please take a seat." Puck directed Finn to the vacant chair. Mercedes smiled sympathetically at him as he trudged into the library, grief all too evident on his face as he sat down. "We need to talk about what happened last night. Could you please tell us what happened from your point of view?"

He spoke like a man in a trance, as though hoping to wake up. "After dinner we split up; I went to look for Rachel in the cellars. I couldn't find her anywhere, but I kept looking; I just had to find her. I was so worried..." A look of pain flashed across his face. "And then I heard that awful scream. I thought it was her, so I ran upstairs. I ran into the room where... where she was..." Again he tailed off, fighting back tears.

Puck leaned forward. "The thing is, Mr. Hudson, we have to go through everyone here and make sure they didn't do it. And because you knew Miss Berry best, you are most likely to have a motive out of everyone here."

"Why...? What possible mot—"

Puck interrupted him, saying, "We know you were in love with her, but she had rejected you for Mr. St. James. Maybe this time the jealousy drove you over the edge? Maybe you just lost your temper when she rejected you yet again?"

"What are you saying? You think I would kill Rachel?" The confusion on Finn's face was obvious. "I love her… I-I could never hurt her."

"You had the opportunity. When we were searching, you went alone to the cellar. You had just enough time to run upstairs and kill her, and then go down to the cellar."

"But... but that's not possible. Is it?" He looked at her questioningly and went on to explain what he meant. "We were looking for her because she was missing. So by the time we were looking, she must have already been... she was already..."

He couldn't bring himself to say the word 'dead' and tears were, by now, pouring down his cheeks.

"And how would you know that, Mr. Hudson? We never told you the time of death."

"I-I… I just assumed! I never… I couldn't!"

Puck glanced at Mercedes, who looked at him pleadingly. He gave in and she led Finn to the door, where Quinn spotted him and came over to comfort him. Mercedes flashed her a grateful smile and returned to the library.

As she returned to her seat, she looked at Puck as one might look at someone who had just been kicking a puppy.

"Alright Mr. Detective, I know you wanted to be sure he didn't do it, but that was just cruel."

"Mercedes, I had to make sure he wasn't just a really good actor. You're right, though, he was way too up cut about it. I really doubt that he was acting — Kurt had to help him to even get back to his own room last night, he was that out of it."

* * *

**Reviews much appreciated, as always!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Title: Empty Chairs At An Empty Table**

**Author:** lil-miss-chocolate

**Rating:** This chapter, PG.

**Characters:** Kurt, Puck, Mercedes, Rachel, Quinn, Tina, Artie, Will, Emma, Sue, Figgins (briefly), Burt (referenced but no appearance), Jesse (referenced but no appearance).

**Pairings:** Kurt/Puck is the main one, the rest are a little intricate.

**Genre:** Crime/Romance

**Warnings:** Various character deaths, some angsty stuff, some smut, and some sickeningly fluffy stuff.

**Spoilers:** None

**Summary:** An AU 1920's murder mystery featuring the Glee club (and assorted friends and relatives).

**Disclaimer:** I don't make the toys, I just play with them. And the idea of a 1920's murder mystery belongs to an anon on the Glee Kink Meme.

**Word Count: ~**18,000 in total. Chapters vary. Ninth chapter: ~800 Yes, it's pretty short, but it was the best place to split it. The next one's twice as long to make up for it

**Beta: **Slash_Pl0x. He saved this story from my incapable hands and made it fab, so much love to him.

**

* * *

Chapter 9/13**

Puck spoke quietly as they waited for Artie Abrams to enter, "I don't think it's likely he had anything to do with it, but you know, with his reputation and his connections, he could easily have arranged for someone to sneak into the house and take care of her."

"He's got the resources, but I don't know about a motive," Mercedes replied. "As far as I know, their paths never crossed before."

Artie knocked on the door and wheeled himself into the room.

Puck started the interview. "Mr Abrams, we know that you've already helped with this investigation, but obviously, we have to investigate everyone. There is the possibility that you were involved with the murder in some way, and then lied about the time of death."

Artie sighed. "I understand. What do you want to know?"

"Have you ever met Miss Berry before?"

"No. I've seen a few of her films, but I've never met her."

"Have you had any kind of interaction with her at all? Friends, associates, that sort of thing?"

"No, as far as I'm aware my only link with her is via Mr Hummel."

Mercedes asked, "And where did you search for her last night?"

"Lady Cohen-Chang and I searched the ground floor."

Puck broke in with, "And exactly how well do you know Lady Cohen-Chang?"

Artie blushed slightly as he answered, "Fairly well. We met at a party a few months ago, and we've become quite close friends since then." He spoke more confidently as he changed the subject back to the events of the previous night. "Anyway, Mrs. Hummel wouldn't let us look inside her study, but we thoroughly searched everywhere else. When we'd looked everywhere, we just stayed in the music room until we heard the scream from the maid. We heard everyone running towards the noise so we went up in the lift. You know what happened from there."

"Right. Do you know what time any of that happened?"

"We'd been looking for about ten minutes when we went to Mrs. Hummel's study, so maybe quarter to nine? I'm not sure. The body was found at nine, almost exactly."

Puck nodded, then said, "One final thing, Mr Abrams, in your... erm... professional opinion," he paused to ensure that no offence had been taken, "how much strength would have been required to cause such damage to Miss Berry's throat? Could a woman have done it?"

"Oh, easily."

Puck and Mercedes exchanged looks. "Well, I think that's everything then," Mercedes smiled at Artie. "Would you mind asking Lady Cohen-Chang if she would step in for a moment?"

He nodded and rolled out into the drawing room.

Puck spoke quietly as they waited for her to arrive, "Well, he obviously couldn't have done it himself—he's in a wheelchair, he couldn't have physically overpowered her enough to garrotte her with a cheese wire. But he could be covering for Lady Cohen-Chang. She's been implicated in dodgy dealings before."

"Mm, but she seems a bit meek and mild to me."

Mercedes nodded as Tina Cohen-Chang sidled into the library, eyes downcast.

Puck and Mercedes smiled at her, trying to reassure her. Mercedes was the first to speak, "Lady Cohen-Chang, we just want to talk to you about what happened last night."

"Al-alright. W-What do you want to kn-know?"

"To start with, where did you and Mr Abrams search for Miss Berry?"

"W-we went all a-around this floor. M-Mrs Hummel wouldn't l-let us search her s-study but w-we looked everywhere else."

"Did you go upstairs at all?" Puck asked.

"N-no. N-not until we h-heard the maid sc-sc-screaming."

"And after that?"

"I st-stayed on the l-landing until you said to g-go. Then I w-went to bed."  
"Alone?" Puck continued to question her.

She blushed and answered, "Y-yes."

Mercedes broke in at this point. "Had you ever met Miss Berry before?"

"No, n-never."

"Never had any communication with her at all?" Puck clarified.

Tina shook her head, eyes wide. Realising that they would get nothing more out of her, Puck ended the interview. He waited until she had shut the door behind her then turned to Mercedes.

"Like getting answers from a stone. I think she's hiding something."

"Well, she confirmed Mrs Hummel's and Mr Abrams' stories."

"I still think she's suspicious. And there was all that business about her husband and the dodgy seafood a few years back."

"I don't think so, Puck. I know her husband died in mysterious circumstances, but she doesn't seem the type to me. You saw how nervy she was."

"Maybe. Who's next?"

Tina was sitting on the piano stool in the music room, Artie parked next to her.

"Well?" he asked.

"I don't know. They definitely bought the stutter. I don't know if they believed what I said about where I was, though. Puckerman seems pretty sharp. But the stutter put them off; I don't think they suspect anything."

"Good. I'd hate for anyone to find out." He smiled and pulled her onto his lap.

* * *

**Please review, my lovelies! Huge thanks to everyone who already has, you have no idea how much it cheers me up!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Title: Empty Chairs At An Empty Table**

**Author:** lil-miss-chocolate

**Rating:** This chapter, PG.

**Characters:** Kurt, Puck, Mercedes, Rachel, Quinn, Tina, Artie, Will, Emma, Sue, Figgins (briefly), Burt (referenced but no appearance), Jesse (referenced but no appearance).

**Pairings:** Kurt/Puck is the main one, the rest are a little intricate.

**Genre:** Crime/Romance

**Warnings:** Various character deaths, some angsty stuff, some smut, and some sickeningly fluffy stuff.

**Spoilers:** None

**Summary:** An AU 1920's murder mystery featuring the Glee club (and assorted friends and relatives).

**Disclaimer:** I don't make the toys, I just play with them. And the idea of a 1920's murder mystery belongs to an anon on the Glee Kink Meme.

**Word Count: ~**18,000 in total. Chapters vary. Tenth chapter: ~1,600

**Beta: **Slash_Pl0x. He saved this story from my incapable hands and made it fab, so much love to him.

**

* * *

Chapter 10/13**

Puck spoke first, "You don't need to be nervous, Quinn, we're just trying to find out what happened to Miss Berry. We've got to ask you because you were the first person to leave the room after her."

"What about Mrs Hummel? She left before me."

"Yes, we're talking to her as well. But we've got to ask everyone."

"You think I might have done this, Puck? How could you think so badly of me?"

"It's not that, Quinn, you know it's not. But I'm investigating a murder here; I can't just exclude you because I know you."

Quinn looked from Puck to Mercedes, tears threatening to fall.

Mercedes spoke, "Puck, maybe its best if you leave this one to me. You're biased, because you know Miss Fabray already."

"Perhaps you're right. Quinn, I'm going to let Mercedes talk to you alone. She's right; I can't be objective about you. You understand?" He clasped her hands until she nodded, and he left the room.

"Alright then, Miss Fabray. Where did you go when you left the dining room to look for Miss Berry?"

"Like I told you at the time, I went upstairs to the main bathroom. The one we were shown when we first arrived. I looked for Miss Berry there, and I called down the corridor. She didn't answer, so I went into the bathroom to fix my make up."

"Did anyone else see you?"

"I don't know! I don't pay attention to the staff. They may have. Why do you want to know?"

"Because it means you had the opportunity to kill Miss Berry."

"What? Why would I want to kill her?"

"Maybe you were jealous. She'd been talking to Puck all evening, and we both know how you feel about him."

Quinn looked at her incredulously. "Jealous? Of that high-pitched little madam? Enough to kill her? What do you think I am?"

"I don't know, but I know you've been chasing him for ages, missy. Maybe seeing him with her drove you over the edge."

"You're utterly mad. I would never do something like that." Quinn got up and stalked out of the room, her white dress swishing as she did so.

Puck entered from the sitting room moments later, having been too slow to catch up with Quinn before she slammed the hall door behind her.

"What did you _say _to her?"

Mercedes sighed, not wanting to tell him about Quinn's obvious feelings for him. "I just mentioned that she had the opportunity to kill her, and suggested a possible motive. I don't think she did it, though. And I'm not just saying that because she's your friend. She just seems too... well... good. Over sensitive, perhaps, but good."

"But that's everyone now—and one of them must have done it. We've spoken to everyone, and none of them seem to have the motive, the opportunity and sheer force of will needed to commit murder."

They went through the list of suspects, Mercedes starting. "There was Emma the housemaid. She found the body, and she had the motive of not wanting to lose her job. But she's really scrupulous about cleanliness. She would never have left the body just in a chest like that. And she seemed genuinely shocked last night."

Puck continued the review of the list. "And there was Will. He had the motive of not wanting his affair with Emma to be found out. But you don't think he has it in him to commit murder?"

"Right. He's not got the cold heartedness to sneak up behind someone and garrotte them. Especially not an unarmed woman. He might strike out in self defence or anger, but he wouldn't cold-bloodedly _murder_ someone."

"Sometimes it's the quietest, calmest person who just snaps. But you're right, and he'd have had to either have already abstracted the wire—which mean he was already planning to kill her, with no motive at the time—or gone back for it after she'd found them. And I don't think he left the room after he returned. Of course, I wasn't paying him a huge amount of attention." Puck sighed. "Moving on. Mrs. Hummel, then. What do you think?"

Mercedes thought for a moment before she replied. "She could definitely have done it, she's cruel enough. I just don't see any motive for her."

"What about Hudson? If Miss Berry had said something at dinner to really upset him, he might have dashed upstairs when we split up to search. He could have grabbed the wire form the sideboard easily enough."

"That doesn't explain why she was absent for so long before that, though," Mercedes pointed out.

"Maybe she _was_ just having a hissy fit."

"I can't imagine that she could say anything that would anger him enough. He was going to let her marry that someone else without so much as a harsh word because he thought it would make her happy. He was completely head over heels for her. You saw his reaction. He might have had the motive of jealousy, but if he was going to kill anyone, it would have been the St James guy, not Rachel herself."

"Good point. And I don't think he really would have been able to sneak up to the first floor and back unnoticed—it's not like he knows the servants' back routes in this house. Also, he's about six foot four; someone would have noticed him between the cellars and the laundry room." He sighed again. "Alright, so not Hudson either."

Puck summed up the next two with, "Mr Abrams and Lady Cohen-Chang, then. They might have some motive, but if they do, it's very well hidden. He couldn't have done it physically, and she seems far too gentle and nervy to strangle someone."

"Yes, it is quite a violent way to kill someone. You'd have to steel yourself to do it. I don't know if she's got the gumption."

"Although… like I said before, it's usually the quiet ones who snap and go off in the deep end. Anyone could be a murderer with enough motive."

"Yeah, but what motive? They didn't know each other."

"I suppose." He paused for a moment, before moving on to the next suspect. "Then there's Quinn. I know I'm biased here, but she's too gentle."

"Well, I'm pretty sure Quinn didn't do it either. I can't see her garrotting someone, even someone she hated as much as Rachel Berry."

"Quinn hated her? I thought she just found her vaguely irritating."

Mercedes shook her head despairingly at him, "That much was obvious."

"Oh… alright then. Well, I've got to admit, I'm stumped. I think the next course of action will be to interview those staff who were working above stairs that night, and ask if they saw anything."

"Hold on, we haven't spoken to everyone. There's still Kurt left. And much as I love him, we can't just pass over him. If we're going to investigate this thing, we're gonna do it properly."

"There's a problem there, though. Both of us are biased, and there's no one else we can trust to talk to him. Let me ask you this, though—do you truly believe he's capable of it?"

She pulled a face. "That's the thing. When he gets angry, he'll do pretty much anything. He won't shout and scream, but if you're watching, you'll see him silently snap, and then God knows what he'll do. I once saw him throw a lamp at a guy. It shattered and mutilated his face. If Berry did something to set him off... I just don't know."

"Well, have you asked him?"

"Asked him what?"

"If he did it."

"No. I think I might be a little afraid of the answer."

Puck sighed. "I'm pretty sure he didn't do it, but you know him better than I do. I'll ask him now, make it look like a proper interview and everything. Do you want to be here?"

"Oh no. If my boy gets angry at you, I do not want to be there to see it." She laughed as she left the room. "I'd move the lamp out of his reach if I were you."

Mercedes ran into Kurt in the hallway (almost literally — she was still laughing from the sight of Puck's alarmed face as he moved the set of glass paperweights to the other side of the table). "Hey Kurt, how are you holding up?"

"Not too bad. How's the interrogating going?"

"Not good." She lowered her voice before continuing, "So far as we can tell, no one had the motive and opportunity."

"And I suppose I can't join the investigation, can I?"

"Not fairly. You left the room after she did, after all."

Kurt nodded and sighed. "Well, if I can help at all, let me know."

"Actually Kurt, that's the thing. Puck needs to interview you. Properly, I mean. You're the only one we haven't interviewed yet."

He looked at her curiously. "Why won't you be there?"

"I'm biased."

"No more so than Puck, surely?"

"Well, yes, but he's a professional. And it would be unfair to have two people biased in your favour in your interrogation. Puck left me to interview Quinn because he knew her too well, so it's only fair for me not to interview you."

"I suppose so. He wants to talk to me now?"

"If you're not busy."

"Not at all. Murder tends to cause most of your plans for the day to be thrown out of the window," he commented dryly.

Mercedes laughed, hugged him, then headed towards the entrance hall and the main stairs.

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**Three chapters left! What do you think of it so far?**


	11. Chapter 11

**Title: Empty Chairs At An Empty Table**

**Author:** lil-miss-chocolate

**Rating:** This chapter, R (barely).

**Characters:** Kurt, Puck, Mercedes, Rachel, Quinn, Tina, Artie, Will, Emma, Sue, Figgins (briefly), Burt (referenced but no appearance), Jesse (referenced but no appearance).

**Pairings:** Kurt/Puck is the main one, the rest are a little intricate.

**Genre:** Crime/Romance

**Warnings:** Various character deaths, some angsty stuff, some smut, and some sickeningly fluffy stuff.

**Spoilers:** None

**Summary:** An AU 1920's murder mystery featuring the Glee club (and assorted friends and relatives).

**Disclaimer:** I don't make the toys, I just play with them. And the idea of a 1920's murder mystery belongs to an anon on the Glee Kink Meme.

**Word Count: ~**18,000 in total. Chapters vary. Eleventh chapter: ~700. Short, 'cos I'm evil like that.

**Beta: **Slash_Pl0x. He saved this story from my incapable hands and made it fab, so much love to him.

**This next part contains a little smut - all clothes remain on, so it's nothing too shocking.**

**

* * *

Chapter 11/13**

Kurt entered the library with his usual confident shell intact. He smiled at Puck at he sat down opposite him. "Noah. Mercedes said you need to speak to me?"

"Yes. The thing is, Kurt, we've not been able to find anyone who looks like they might have done it. You're the only one we haven't interviewed properly now."

"So you need to ask me where I was? I understand. But it's like I said before. I did go around and look for her. Perhaps not as thoroughly as I might have done, but I didn't see her. And I didn't kill her."

"You're sure?"

Kurt's eyebrows vanished somewhere into his hairline. "I think I would remember, Noah. I thought you said you trusted me?"

"I know, I do! It's just..." Puck groaned. "I have to try and find who did it—I'm a detective, that's what I do. And I do _want_ to find out who did it, especially if it wasn't you, so I can get them locked up. Kurt, I need to know if you did it. If you did, I wouldn't tell them, I swear to you I wouldn't. I would find a way to keep you safe. But I have to know. If it wasn't you it was one of the other people here, and I have to know if it _wasn't _you so I can investigate without worrying about what I might find out."

"I've already told you, Puck," Kurt said, with a piqued expression on his face.

Puck registered the use of his nickname. "I know, and I trust you, I do! But then Mercedes said that you threw a lamp at a guy and that you when you get angry you do things you would never normally do, and that—"

Kurt broke into his flustered ramblings by standing and placing a finger firmly on Puck's lips, his eyes flashing.

"Did she tell you what he had done? No? Suffice it to say that nothing Rachel Berry could have done would have even come close. She was an irritating little diva with poor dress sense, but she was basically a good person."

Puck's expression was guarded — he was clearly undecided.

The anger on Kurt's face softened, and he perched himself on Puck's side of the desk.

"Can I trust you, Noah? You truly promise me that if I tell you I did it, you wouldn't turn me in? You wouldn't tell a soul?"

"Yes, Kurt. I won't lose you over this. I know that if you did it, you must have had a bloody good reason. You aren't a mindless killer."

"You swear to me? Any secrets I have are safe with you?"

"Yes. Please, just tell me."

"Listen to me carefully, Noah." Kurt clasped both of Puck's hands in his. "I promise you; I swear to you, I did not do it. When we were lying together in my bed, I had no idea that there was a dead body anywhere in my house. Do you believe me?"

Puck nodded.

"Besides, what kind of host would I be if I went around murdering my guests?"

His attempt to cheer Puck up worked, and a smile spread across his face. "Thank you, Kurt."

"For what?"

"For not throwing a lamp at me for suggesting that... you know..."

Kurt rolled his eyes and slid down into his lap. "Noah, I wouldn't waste a perfectly good lamp over something as petty as that." Kurt bent down to kiss him. Puck's hands began to roam along Kurt's thighs as they kissed, tongues meeting as Kurt felt a familiar hardness growing under his thigh. He ground his hips against Puck's growing erection, eliciting a moan from his lips. Puck's hand was just beginning to unbutton Kurt's trousers when a bloodcurdling scream rang through the house.

"Oh no. Not another one. Please..." Puck said as they both lurched for the door, dashing outside and following the sound. This time the scream had come from Tina Cohen-Chang, her hands over her mouth as she wailed in horror. A body lay on the black and white chequered marble flooring of the entrance hall at the foot of the staircase, the back of the head having been bashed in with an ivory-topped walking stick that was lying next to it.

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**Mwahahaha! Yes, I know I'm evil. Kill me later :-P**

**Also, a serious question: how is that people can alert and favourite my story without leaving a review? I tried it once and it wouldn't let me if I didn't write a review as well.**

**Thanks as always to those who review, especially those who review regularly: heroesatheart124, gleeme33, Chalcedony Rivers and broodyandcheery143.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Title: Empty Chairs At An Empty Table**

**Author:** lil-miss-chocolate

**Rating:** This chapter, PG.

**Characters:** Kurt, Puck, Mercedes, Rachel, Quinn, Tina, Artie, Will, Emma, Sue, Figgins (briefly), Burt (referenced but no appearance), Jesse (referenced but no appearance).

**Pairings:** Kurt/Puck is the main one, the rest are a little intricate.

**Genre:** Crime/Romance

**Warnings:** Various character deaths, some angsty stuff, some smut, and some sickeningly fluffy stuff.

**Spoilers:** None

**Summary:** An AU 1920's murder mystery featuring the Glee club (and assorted friends and relatives).

**Disclaimer:** I don't make the toys, I just play with them. And the idea of a 1920's murder mystery belongs to an anon on the Glee Kink Meme.

**Word Count: ~**18,000 in total. Chapters vary. Twelfth chapter: ~800. I know it's short, but the final one is long to make up for it.

**Beta: **Slash_Pl0x. He saved this story from my incapable hands and made it fab, so much love to him.

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Chapter 12/13**

"Mercedes! Oh God, no!" Kurt dashed across the blood splattered floor towards the prone figure. Will Shuester, who was one of the many people who had gathered at the sound of the scream, caught him, stopping him from moving his best friend's corpse. Less than five seconds later, Kurt was enfolded in Puck's arms.

Kurt's legs gave way and he sank to the ground, sobbing into Puck's shoulder. As he held Kurt close, Puck looked around the room, studying the faces of all those who had appeared at Tina's scream. Their attention solely focused on the body of the large black woman, their expressions varying from shock to sadness to disgust. Quinn was the last to arrive, running in and taking in the scene before her. She gasped in shock, her hands flying to her mouth. Then she turned and fled up the stairs. Puck remained kneeling on the ground, gently rocking Kurt back and forth as he wept.

Artie rolled forward to take charge, quietly dispersing the group of guests and the staff who were huddled at the doorways, peering into the room. He beckoned to Figgins, whose eyes alone betrayed the shock and sadness he was feeling. Ever the perfect butler, he leant down discreetly to hear Artie's quiet instructions to arrange the removal of the body. Artie glanced over at Puck, so see if he was going to take charge as he had before, but Puck was now gazing glassy eyed at the floor, trying to find some way to comfort Kurt, whose face was buried in his shoulder, without using the empty words he said every day at work.

His mind ran through every member of the weekend party, unable to see why any of them would have done such a thing as brutally murdering their host's closest friend. Whoever had done it had had only minutes to act — Mercedes had spoken to Kurt barely ten minutes ago.

Puck looked at Artie, who was only a couple of yards away. They spoke quietly, barely audible over Kurt's sobbing. "Mr Abrams, I need you to take charge briefly whilst I make sure that Kurt's alright. Will you organise for her to be put downstairs, and for the walking stick to be kept somewhere safe? It'll need to be dusted for fingerprints when the police arrive."

Artie nodded and wheeled away. Puck was sure that he couldn't have killed Mercedes himself — the angle at which the ivory headed cane had struck her head meant that it would have been impossible for it to be done from a wheelchair.

As Kurt's initial choking sobs died down, Puck took hold of his hands and pulled him to his feet, leading him up the stairs away from the sight of Mercedes' battered corpse. He kept one arm protectively around Kurt's shoulders as they walked; guiding him up the two flights to the second floor. As they navigated their way up the staircase, Kurt turned to Puck, his beautiful face marred by his red eyes and the tear tracks running down his cheeks.

"Who would do this? Who could do such a thing?" Kurt's voice cracked as he spoke.

"I don't know Kurt. I'm so sorry, I just don't know. I've got no idea who did it. But I will find them; I will make sure they pay for what they've done." They rounded the banister and started up the second flight, Kurt stumbling over his feet, unable to see clearly through his tear filled eyes. "And I won't leave you. I'm going to stay right here until I get to the bottom of this."

Puck settled Kurt into the sofa in his bedroom, providing a shoulder for the smaller man to cry on. He reviewed all the suspects in his mind, rapidly coming to the realisation that the most obvious motive was that Mercedes had either known something, or figured something out, and therefore she had had to be silenced before she could tell anyone.

Quinn got up from her seat on the first floor landing, and walked slowly to her bedroom.

Artie had taken charge in Kurt's absence (Mrs Hummel had not appeared even when Tina had screamed), arranging that they should all stay until the police had investigated. One of the boot boys had been sent down to the harbour to await the boats that had originally been scheduled to take the guests away after their weekend's rest — one of the footmen was going to go ashore and call the police from there.

There was nothing they could do but await the arrival of the police. No one (except Finn, of course) had been hugely shaken by Rachel's death — they'd been nervy, but they had assumed it must have been premeditated, with some serious motive. But the impromptu and brutal murder of Mercedes had shocked and frightened them all. All but one member of the household eagerly awaited the arrival of the police, and the protection they would surely provide. None of them were foolish enough to believe that they would be allowed to leave until the murderer had been caught.

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One more chapter to go! Don't worry, it's a nice long one. As always, reviews are much appreciated!  
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	13. Chapter 13

**Title: Empty Chairs At An Empty Table**

**Author:** lil-miss-chocolate

**Rating:** This chapter, PG.

**Characters:** Kurt, Puck, Mercedes, Rachel, Quinn, Tina, Artie, Will, Emma, Sue, Figgins (briefly), Burt (referenced but no appearance), Jesse (referenced but no appearance).

**Pairings:** Kurt/Puck is the main one, the rest are a little intricate.

**Genre:** Crime/Romance

**Warnings:** Various character deaths, some angsty stuff, some smut, and some sickeningly fluffy stuff.

**Spoilers:** None

**Summary:** An AU 1920's murder mystery featuring the Glee club (and assorted friends and relatives).

**Disclaimer:** I don't make the toys, I just play with them. And the idea of a 1920's murder mystery belongs to an anon on the Glee Kink Meme.

**Word Count: ~**18,000 in total. Chapters vary. Thirteenth chapter: ~1,900

**Beta: **Slash_Pl0x. He saved this story from my incapable hands and made it fab, so much love to him.

**It is finally here! You have no idea how much I am hoping that you don't hate the ending.**

**To all those who have reviewed, thank you. Really, from the bottom of my heart – it means so much to me when people say such lovely things as you guys have. Hugs and cookies to you all.**

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Chapter 13/13**

The large house was still and silent, even the servants made sure they moved around in pairs as they quietly carried out their duties. Mercedes' body had been moved to the freezing cabinet once Artie had gathered all possible evidence from the scene with the assistance of two footmen.

Quinn remained in her bedroom. Artie, Tina and Finn sat in Artie's room, deciding that safety in numbers was the best strategy Tina and Artie had given up all pretence of indifference to each other, and she sat on his lap, his arms securely around her waist. Puck still held Kurt close, waiting for him to calm down enough that he could leave him and re-interview the remaining guests. Sue, imperturbable as always, was working in her study, bemoaning the fact that she couldn't go the mainland (she was expecting the local chemist's to get a new delivery of one of her vitamin supplements). Will was working in one of the myriad bedrooms; Emma was below stairs in the laundry.

Puck was still sitting with his arms around Kurt, outwardly calm, but his mind in a frenzy. He was mentally running through a list of all the guests of the house. Artie? Wrong angle. Tina? Possibly, but it would have made more sense for her to try and hide the body again. Or would it? Perhaps screaming had been the easiest way to avert suspicion. Finn? Puck was fairly sure he hadn't done it, but what if he really was just a great actor? Sue Sylvester? Quite possibly. Mercedes' murder had been totally her style. But Rachel's? It seemed unlikely. Emma the housemaid? Not enough gumption or motive. After all if she'd killed Rachel to avoid her relationship with Will from getting out, she would hardly have told them about it in the interview. Will? Mercedes had had absolute faith that he couldn't have done it, and it must have been her opinion that had got her killed; Will had no reason to think he was more a suspect than anyone else. Kurt? He supposed he'd had the opportunity, but looking down at the man weeping in his arms, he realised that there was just no chance. Unless he was mad with grief over what he done to his best friend… Puck shook himself, unable to believe he was suspecting Kurt. He thought of Quinn – beautiful, pure, unsullied Quinn. There was no way she had done this, however irritated she may have been with Mercedes.

All of sudden, a strangled cry filled the air. Heads poked out of rooms, trying to figure out from whence the sound had come. Guests and staff looked up and down the corridors in confusion, unable to see the source of the noise. Then Will Schuester noticed something unusual—a rope tied around the newel post on the first floor landing. He peered over, then pulled back, horrified by what he saw. A slender, white-clad figure with long blonde hair was swinging by her neck from the end of the rope. He looked quickly to left and right, but there was no one there who might have thrown her over. The guests on the first floor were gathering on the landing, taking in the sight over the swinging body, then gazing suspiciously at each other, making sure to stay away from the top of the stairs. Finn's muttered, "I don't understand... why?" was echoed by all those present.

Several shrieks and wails were heard from downstairs as maids had appeared in the hall from below stairs. Figgins appeared at the foot of the staircase, and spotted Will, and said, "William, this is getting ridiculous. Will you please let her down so we can see if she might be alive?"

Another footman bounded up the stairs to assist as Will surveyed the knot, taking the weight as he began to undo it. Luckily it was long enough to lower the Honourable Quinn Fabray gently to the ground without having to drop her. Two of the more level-headed maids caught her, laying her gently on the floor, removing the noose from around her neck. To no avail — she was clearly dead. Figgins was about to issue instructions to the servants to move her body down to the (by now very full) freezers, but was interrupted by Artie's calling down from the landing.

"Wait! Someone go and fetch Mr Puckerman. He should know, and he would want to see her."

Figgins nodded. "William?"

"Yes, I'll do it." Will knew better than to argue with the butler in front of guests. He made his way up the flight of stairs to the second floor, having noted where Puck had gone when he had taken Kurt upstairs. He knocked unwillingly on the door, hating being the bearer of such bad news.

Puck's mind moved on to working out who had had the best opportunity when he heard the knock at the door. He looked up, and then returned his gaze to Kurt, who was still snuffling into his shoulder. "What is it?" he called.

"It's William, sir. Something's happened."

Puck made a noise halfway between a moan and a groan, sliding himself out from under Kurt, placing a kiss on his forehead, and making his way to the door. "What happened?" he asked brusquely.

"It's Miss Fabray, sir. I'm afraid she's..." He paused, swallowed, and continued, "I'm afraid she's dead, sir."

"What?" Puck was in a state of shock. Not Quinn, surely not Quinn. She was far too lovely for anyone to want to destroy.

Will saw Kurt sit up in shock behind Puck, his own grief momentarily forgotten. Puck's voice lowered to almost a growl as he asked, "Where?"

"She's downstairs, sir, in the hall. We... we had to move her, we thought she might be... still alive." Will was knocked aside as Puck hurtled along the corridor and down the stairs. Kurt, also seemingly in shock, followed him slowly, in a daze.

Puck slowed as he descended the last few stairs, taking in the lifeless form of his best friend.

"Oh Quinn, who did this to you?"

He went to take her hand, but was halted in his tracks when he noticed a sheet of paper clutched in her fingers. He unfolded it, revealing a tearstained page of Quinn's handwriting.

_You probably want to know why I did this. Because it was me, you see, it was me all along. And it's your fault, Noah Puckerman. I loved you so much, but you never even noticed. I thought if I got rid of all the distractions, like that shrill little Berry, and that hideously pushy Jones girl, you might look at me... might finally notice how much I love you. But whatever I did, you never looked at me the way I always wanted you to._

_I killed Berry first; she and her nattering voice had your attention the whole way through dinner; I couldn't bear it. Rather fitting, don't you think? Someone whose life had depended on her voice had lost her life when I cut off her voice._

_I watched you grow closer and closer to the Jones girl. Another singer. I thought maybe that was it, that I wasn't a singer. Not a professional one like them. But I didn't give up. I took her life like I did that titchy brunette's.__ She'd had all your attention; you'd barely spoken to me. You hadn't even interviewed me yourself like you had everyone else, but you trusted her enough to let her do it. You let her tell you to leave the room, and you listened to her. You'd never listened to me like that; you always thought you knew better. But you usually did. You were__always a listening ear and a helping hand._

_But you left me with her, and she said such awful things. She nearly guessed that I'd done it, you see. Killing her killed two birds with one stone, and the walking stick was so handy, just there in the umbrella stand._

_Even then, when they found her, it wasn't me you went to, to comfort and hold.__ I realise why now. I saw you and Hummel. Perhaps I should have seen it before, but I loved you so. Hope that you might one day return my feelings was all that kept me going. You've finally fallen for someone I could never replace. I can never be the man that I see now you've always wanted. I know now you'll never love me like I love you. You'll never desire me the way you do him. There's no hope for me. I tried so hard to hate you for not wanting me, but I can't help loving you. It's swallowing me up. You're all I want, and if can't have you, I couldn't bear to see you with someone else, someone I could never be. I couldn't stand to see someone who wasn't me make you happy._

_I truly hope he makes you happy Noah, the way I never could, but I couldn't stay and watch you be happy with him. It would tear me apart. It _has_ torn me apart._

_Goodbye, my love. Forgive me. Pray for me._

_Quinn_

The anger with which the letter had started had given way to despair, several of the words nearly blurred out by the salty tears which had fallen upon them. Puck stared at the words before him, cursing himself for not seeing what had been before his eyes. For not seeing his closest friend falling into such a whirlpool of jealousy and despair. For not reaching out to help her before she felt driven to such terrible things. Kurt stood beside him, arms wrapped tightly around his waist, face buried in his shoulder. Puck returned the embrace, unable to stop the tears flowing from his eyes as he rested his head on the smaller man's shoulder.

The two men held each other tightly, each taking comfort from the closeness of the other. They had both lost their best friends, the one person they had trusted above all others. Finding each other seemed small consolation in that moment; Mercedes' body not yet cold, Quinn's tears still damp on the note Puck held. They clung to each other, trying to find solace in the other man's arms. Their grief overwhelmed them. But they were each other's lifeboats. Instead of sinking they brought each other to the surface again. They felt the pain of loss no less keenly for the other man's presence, but the knowledge that there was someone there to hold them through their pain kept them from the precipice. They were each other's light at the end of the tunnel, and together, they would make it through.

**THE END**

_You can shed tears that she is gone_

_Or you can smile because she has lived._

_You can close your eyes and pray that she'll come back_

_Or you can open your eyes and see all she's left._

_Your heart can be empty because you can't see her_

_Or you can be full of the love you shared._

_You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday_

_Or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday._

_You can remember her and only that she's gone_

_Or you can cherish her memory and let it live on._

_You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back_

_Or you can do what she'd want: smile, open your eyes, love and go on._

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Final Author's Notes:**

**The poem at the end is by David Harkins (I believe; that is the general consensus at least. Opinion is divided on the matter), and I thought it actually fitted rather beautifully for all three relationships: Finn and Rachel, Kurt and Mercedes, and Puck and Quinn.**

**Thank you all for sticking with me to the end on this one; I really hope you were pleased with the ending and don't feel I've let you down at all. *crosses fingers***

**If you were wondering, I got the idea of the dead body in the linen chest from one my school's many ghost stories - apparently a dead body was once found in the chest that now sits in the drawing room. A great tale for freaking out the Year 7s (6th graders). Especially when they're sitting on it :-P**

**If you want to hear Emma's scream on discovering Rachel's body, it's the scream that Louisa Stockbridge screamed in **_**Gosford Park**_** when she discovered the body. It's a fabulous film, by the way, a 1930's murder mystery in a big country house with one of the best casts of any film I've ever seen.**

**Those of you from the south coast most likely recognised Brownsea Island as my inspiration for the location. It was the only way I could think of to put them out of contact with the rest of the world for a weekend - an idea shamelessly stolen from Agatha Christie's marvellous "And Then There Were None".**

**I'm so happy that I managed to get the word 'canoodling' into a fic!**

**I reached a new level of depravity writing this story; most of the smut was written whilst at work. I'm a receptionist.**

**As always, reviews are much appreciated. If you liked it, let me know. If you didn't, tell me why. But please don't be too mean!**

**Huge, massive thanks go to my **_**fantastic**_** beta Slash_Pl0x. Without his help and Dakota-Stanley-like encouragement, this fic wouldn't have even been remotely readable, so lots of huggles to him.**

**If I don't reply to any reviews for while, it's not because I don't care, it's because I'm leaving for the airport at stupid o'clock tomorrow morning, and won't be back in Britain with my internet for nearly two weeks. America, here I come! I will be taking a writing pad with me, and will probably come back with loads of half finished scribbles, that I will do my best to bully into half decent fics when I have a computer again.**

**Yes, I know, these author's notes are more than half as long as the previous chapter. Sorry, I tend to ramble...  
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